Out of the Mouths of Babes
by Adara-chan67
Summary: On a supposedly normal job, John runs into a small complication, one that quickly comes to be Sam's best friend. Wee!Chesters and one little OC. But he's a good OC, I promise! He always minds his manners and doesn't step on any Winchester toes. Promise!
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Wish I did. I don't even own the kid—he's a character of my friend Mandy, who wanted me to write a Boyz crossover with him in it._

_Characters: John, Sam, and Dean Winchester, and also an OC_

_Setting: Starts out pre-Pilot, but it could end up anywhere._

_Warnings: As of last night's episode, it's officially AU, since Sam actually does know about monsters. Either that or he's just too young to care._

* * *

Prologue

The cemetery isn't exactly where you expect something exciting to happen. Most of the people there are dead—it isn't exactly a party spot, nor where you see many life-changing events. And you're definitely not supposed to see _people_ there—at least not at night,.

John Winchester would tell you differently. He would tell you that you could find all those things in a cemetery—you just had to tag along with him some night, and things were _bound_ to happen. Only to be expected, business as usual, and all of that.

But even John Winchester hadn't been expecting what he was seeing right now.

He'd gone on this hunt tonight alone. It was a simple salt-and-burn, easily taken care of, and so he'd left his sons at home, one complaining loudly that _no_, he _didn't_ need to do his homework, he didn't _want_ to stay home, he _wasn't_ too young to hunt with his dad, while the other scribbled down his simple first-grade math problems. He'd gone looking forward to getting this done and foreseeing no complications.

But now here he was, standing at the grave he should be digging up, staring wide-eyed at what could only be called…a complication.

It was hard to say whether the child was a boy or girl, or what age it was. In fact, it was hard to tell it was a _child_, as bundled up and covered as it was against the cold as it lay curled up with its back against the gravestone, using its bulk to break the wind. But the shape was human, and the gloves, and the shoes, and the hood. The hair was shoulder-length, so _that_ didn't help the decision-making process. And there was no movement—for all John knew, the kid could've been dead. Either that or waiting to make _him_ dead.

Well, only one way to find out.

John gritted his teeth and reached out a hand.

The child jerked before he could touch, rolling out of reach and darting behind the stone slab, ducking out of sight and leaving its pallet and blankets in a heap on the ground.

This was all done in absolute silence and with astounding speed, and afterward the only sound was the wind, and even though the kid _had_ to be behind the grave still, there was no sign of it.

"Well," John said to no one in particular, his hand still stretched in front of him. "That was unexpected."

_

* * *

_

_Author's Note: This whole story is basically the result of a request of a friend of mine. Like I said in the disclaimer, she wanted me to write a Boyz story using one of her characters. That was pretty much all she wanted, so I'm pretty much making this up as I go along. The chapters will be short, but I do have up to number three done. I just need to find the time to type it up._

_So anyways. Enough of my rambling. I'd love to hear what you thing! Reviews keep the muse in love and chocolate!_


	2. A Complication

Chapter 1

"Okay," John said uncertainly to the air, after fifteen minutes of thinking. "I know you're still there, so I'll tell you what. I have some business here tonight, so I need to move your stuff. If you have a problem with that, tell me now."

The wind whistled, dropping a branch on the ground nearby, but nothing human made a sound, so John slowly moved toward the front of the gravestone and moved the pile of now-damp blankets out of the way. He was tempted to look behind the marker but resisted, and picked up his shovel instead.

Within twenty minutes he'd taken care of what needed to be taken care of, and after shoveling the dirt back over the coffin of what was now ash, John straightened and looked around.

"Okay, kid," he said again to the air. "I'm done digging up your bed now. But I don't think I like leaving you here, so I'll tell you what. I think you should come with me. It's cold out here—January being what it is and all—and your bed'll be soaked through by dawn. And unless you've got a convenience store hidden up your sleeve, you'll be pretty hungry by then, too. But me—I've got food, and blankets, and even a roof, and a couple of boys who'll talk your ear off. Just for tonight, maybe. Whaddya say?"

There was absolute no sound, and after about five or ten minutes John started to feel a little stupid.

"Uh…kid? I should probably warn you—I'm a patient man. At least when it comes to waiting someone out. And I'm prepared to sit here and wait all night if I have to. If you're afraid, don't be. I know burning a corpse isn't the sanest thing in the world, but…I won't hurt you," John said, someone lamely.

Still nothing, and John was just about to sit down on the ground and see if he could, indeed, wait there all night, when he caught a small flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Startled, he looked—and a small person stepped out of the trees almost two hundred feet from the grave.

Every hunter's instinct John had screamed at him to examine the question of how the child had moved from the grave to that spot without being seen. But for the first time in five years, he ignored those instinct, simply because something about this kid compelled him to _do_ something, no matter what.

Cautiously, the kid moved forward, until John could make out some features. They were pale, thin, almost delicate, but John was pretty sure he was looking at a boy—a very young boy.

"Well," he said awkwardly, as the kid gathered up his blankets and stood up straight again, staring unabashedly at John. "Are you coming, then?"

All he got for his efforts was a steady look that he decided to take as a "yes."

"Well," he muttered as they headed back down the path. "This is gonna be a fun ride."

If he'd been looking at exactly the right moment, and watched closely without blinking once, John _might_ have caught the smallest and briefest of smiles on the boy's face.

XXX

Humans were…different than he'd expected. Ryuji watched the man out of the corner of his eye, committing details to memory. The features were broad, strong, and most of all, _hairy_. Ryuji believed they were called "beards" but he couldn't for the life of him understand the fascination human men had with them.

However, the human had an air of confidence about him that couldn't be questioned, and that helped a little to make up for the beard. Here was a man who knew his limits and yet wasn't afraid to push them. Here was a man of _power_.

He was also…rather amusing. He obviously felt very awkward in this situation, but that hadn't stopped him from making his unexpected offer. And his words—"this is gonna be a fun ride"—accompanied with the weary, irritated tone—well, it was rather funny.

"My name's John Winchester."

Ryuji looked at him fully, debated giving his own name, decided against it, and simply nodded.

John Winchester sighed gustily, and that was rather funny, too.

XXX

John had never felt more awkward or idiotic in his life than he did during the fifteen-minute ride back to the motel room he shared with his boys. The boy didn't seem to have any care for conversation at all, simply leaning against the window and staring out into the night. John _did _notice that his fingers kept clenching and unclenching in his lap, as of they weren't holding something that ought to be there.

When he pulled up in front of the motel, John said, "Well, this is it. This is where I live. This week, anyway." He shoved open his door, and the boy climbed out and followed him without a word.

It was then that John noticed that his shoes didn't make a sound on the concrete.

Dean was flipping channels when John opened the door, six-year-old Sam curled up next to him, quite obviously drowsing. Dean must have given into his pleas to stay up until Daddy got home, but John was too distracted to call him on it.

"Hey, Dad," Dean said, and Sam sat up and rubbed his eyes. "You're late."

"Yeah," John said. "Things got…complicated."

"You okay?" Dean asked in concern, and John felt a momentary pang that his ten-year-old son even _knew_ such a tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just…"

And then the kid stepped forward, and Dean saw the "complication" quite clearly.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, not in a rude or hostile way, but simply in that frank way that all children have of addressing each other.

The kid simply stared at him.

"My name's Sam."

Silence.

"Don't you talk?" Sam asked, undaunted by the lack of reaction.

And for the first time, the kid responded, even with only with a simple nod.

"But you don't want to, do you?"

This time, the boy shook his head.

"Are you going to stay here?"

A nod. _Yes_.

"Forever?"

_No._

"But for tonight?"

_Yes._

"Longer?"

A shrug, this time. _I'm not sure._

"Well, if you did, you could sleep in my bed. You could even hold my bear. I think you're nice."

Still standing near the door, John watched in fascination as Sam wheeled and wormed and dug straight to the heart of this strange, silent boy, gaining an entire conversation where John had only seen silence.

And then he was struck entirely dumb, because the boy smiled—a truly beautiful, if brief, smile—and nodded acceptance.

XXX

"But how are we gonna find out who he _is_?" Dean asked quietly, looking over to where Sam and the stranger slept, curled like cats in Sam's bed, the boy clutching Sam's huge, one-eyed stuffed bear Rollo as if he'd found his best friend.

John sighed. "I don't have a clue. He won't _talk_. Won't even take his hoodie off." After a moment he shook his head. "Look, why don't you go to bed? We can figure this out in the morning."

Dean's face set rebelliously, but he did as he was told and went to his own bed.

John, though, didn't go to sleep until after midnight, but stayed awake, watching the strange boy, his thoughts troubled.

XXX

The numbers on the humans' clock read 2:30 before Ryuji was absolutely certain he was the only one awake. He rolled over carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping—and admittedly adorable—little boy next to him, and slipped out of the bed. Unconsciously, he pulled his hood tighter around his head, his instincts warning him not to let his guard down, and walked toward the dresser, stepping around the man asleep on the floor.

He didn't make a sound. No one detected Ryuji's presence unless he wished it so.

Silently, he pulled open a drawer in the dresser—he didn't know precisely what he was looking for, only that it would tell him something about the people he'd ended up with, and that he would know it when he saw it.

And he did—he felt the thrill of _right_ as soon as he saw the book, and he pulled it out, sat down on the floor, and opened it.

The pages were full of strange, cramped writing, and pictures, and the first line was…intriguing.

_I went t Missouri, and I learned the truth._

Some humans were terribly concerned with the truth, Ryuji knew, and apparently this John Winchester was one of them. That was good. Truth was important. Without it, there was pain.

Ryuji flipped through the pages slowly, patiently looking for deeper meaning in each one of the carefully-kept entries about all manner of creatures that most humans weren't supposed to know about, until at last he found what he sought.

Ryuji silently read through the sparse notes about a yellow-eyed demon whose name John Winchester couldn't know. He read until he'd committed the page to memory, even though ti hurt him badly to do so.

When his work was finally finished, Ryuji carefully replaced the journal exactly as he'd found it, and crept from the room.

XXX

"So you didn't wake up at all?" John asked his son incredulously.

Sam shook his head sadly and hugged Rollo. "Nuh-uh. 

"But you wake up if Dean or I even go to the bathroom!"

"I know, but I didn't this time. Daddy, are you gonna go find my friend?"

"He's not your friend, Sammy, you don't even know him," John said absently.

"I know, but he's nice. So he's my friend."

John couldn't even spare a smile at the simplicity of the six-year-old mind, though normally he would have laughed right along. His mind was focused on one question only.

_Who _is_ that boy?_

XXX

Ryuji had been in the tree for about five hours now, unnoticed by the park's early-morning joggers and whatnot. He'd been attempting to straighten out everything in his mind and come to a decision about what to do now, and he'd finally succeeded.

Of course, he didn't really notice the length of time. A few hours meant almost nothing to him. But the humans would see it differently—he should probably go back now. It was time, anyway—time to tell the truth, and…see what came of it.

XXX

The Winchesters were still discussing what to do about his disappearance when he walked back into the motel room. Ignoring their surprise and confusion, Ryuji walked straight to John Winchester and deliberately pushed back his hood to reveal his pointed ears.

"My name is Ryuji, and I know what it is you're searching for."


	3. You're a What, Now?

Chapter 2

The voice was soft and clear and somehow reminiscent of silver bells, its accent not any accent found in the world at all, but John Winchester didn't seem to notice any of that.

"An _elf?"_

His voice seemed like thunder, and Ryuji winced. He _really_ wished John would get past that part. He kept his voice pleasant, however—humans sometimes needed reiteration a great many times, not because they were in some way mentally deficient, but because sometimes they just simply did not _want_ to know what they _needed_ to know. Dealing with them required patience.

"Yes. I'm an elf. We do exist outside of your…fairy tales." Try as he might, he couldn't fully banish his obvious distaste for _those_ wild theories.

"An _elf_…" John muttered, his eyes looking a little wild. "And _how_ old are you?"

"How old do you think I am?" Ryuji replied.

"…I don't want to answer that."

But Dean had been studying the boy—man? Was it even appropriate to call him _anything_ human?—very carefully, and now he pronounced firmly. "Ten. Same as me."

Ryuji was surprised, and he wasn't yet schooled enough in the ways of his people to hide it. "Yes. That's…exactly right. How did you know?"

Dean only shrugged, but Sam piped up with a grin. "Oh, Dean knows _everything!"_

"Sammy," Dean muttered, embarrassed, but obviously pleased. "I do not."

"Do too."

"Okay, can we _please_ get back to the subject now?" John asked impatiently.

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Dad," Dean said quickly.

Sam hugged Rollo tighter and fell silent.

"Thank you," John said dryly. "So…Ryuji…you really _are_ ten? You're not this centuries-old guy _pretending_ to be ten?"

"No," Ryuji said patiently. "My people age normally through adolescence. Only then does the process slow down."

"But…the way you talk…and…and…" John groped aimlessly for his meaning, and apparently failed.

"The way I talk is only civilized. Maybe that's why it seems strange to humans."

"Right," John said, not even bothering to bristle. "You're ten. Okay, so…an elf. You're an elf. There is an elf sitting in my motel room and I'm talking to him. I guess I could get used to that. Maybe. Where are you from, anyway?"

Ryuji gritted his teeth and reminded himself that there _was_ time to get through all this before he addressed the important things. He was helpless at the moment, anyway.

"The name wouldn't translate, and I told you its location you would be…unsettled. But I can tell you that if you ever crossed our borders, you would find yourself in…a paradise. Our home is a place of unparalleled beauty, of birds and music and green things. I guarantee, if you ever went there it would be your last journey, because you wouldn't ever want to leave."

"Well, if it's so nice, then how come _you're_ here?" John asked shrewdly.

Ryuji looked at him for a long moment and then said, "Because I have to be."

And then—_finally_—John began to come around to the point.

"And…you said you know about us? About what we do?"

"More than that. I know exactly what you're trying to find—what you want to take revenge on. I know something of it—and I'll tell you what I know, if you like."

John studied him, then nodded once.

"Fine. Dean, take Sam to the park."

"But—"

"No!" Sam protested. "I wanna stay here!"

"_Now_, Dean," John said implacably, in that voice that warned of the ultimatum of absolute obedience or never-ending grounding.

When they were alone at last—it had taken a while and a lot of effort from Dean to convince Sam to adhere to The Voice—John turned to Ryuji and spoke abruptly.

"All right. Tell me."


	4. Interlude

Author's Note: This chapter is…sadly devoid of Boyish Adorableness. In fact, Sam and Dean are not in this chapter at all—hence my choice of titles. But it does have some information, so I suggest that you just get through it as fast as you can and then the next chapter WILL see a return of our boys.

* * *

Chapter 3

X_ Flashback—Seven Years Ago_ X

"_Mother, look! Look! I found a heartflower!" Ryuji said excitedly, running up to his mother, who was sitting demurely at the pristine glass table in the corner of the garden._

_She smiled down at him and lifted him into her lap, hugging him to her._

"_It's very pretty," she said, laughing her silvery little laugh. "And very lucky. Go ahead, make a wish."_

_Ryuji smiled at her, and then closed his eyes, twirling the flower in his little fist, and made his wish._

_It was then that he felt his mother's entire body tense._

_Curious, and a little alarmed—well, to the extent that any three-year-old _can_ be alarmed, anyway—Ryuji opened his eyes and looked to see what was the matter._

_There was a man in the garden with them now._

_He was tall, and thin, and he had close-cropped black hair and a decidedly handsome face. And he was watching Ryuji's mother steadily, intently, in a way that made Ryuji afraid._

"_Mother," he whispered in a perfectly audible tone. "Who's _that_?"_

_His mother stared at the stranger, looking troubled, and maybe a little…fearful?_

_But no, that couldn't be….Mother wasn't afraid of _anything_…_

"_I don't know," his mother said, for his ears alone. "But I think you should go inside now."_

"_But…"_

"Now_, Ryuji," she repeated, and suddenly Ryuji saw the wisdom in obeying her._

X_ The Next Day_ X

_Ryuji's mother wasn't at breakfast the next morning, and his father said she was ill._

"_She won't be leaving her bed today," he said, his handsome, pale face stern as usual, "but I think a short little visit from her son would cheer her up very much."_

_Ryuji found this very agreeable, and the moment he finished eating he set off for his mother's room, while his father left the house to do whatever mysterious things he and Mother did all day while Ryuji stayed home and played with his nurse._

_But when Ryuji reached his mother's room, he found the door locked, and someone already in the room—a man with a voice of finest silk._

_That voice was like the strongest magnet, and Ryuji pressed his ear to the door to listen._

"…_Don't expect your services free. I'll make it worth your while."_

"_You don't understand." That was Ryuji's mother, but he hardly recognized her voice—it was so hollow, weak. "I can't. I would be found out—I'm not good at hiding things…"_

"_I can help. You'll learn, and you'll be very accomplished. There's no need to worry about that."_

"_But…I…I can't leave my son…"_

_This time the man laughed, but not with mirth. "Please, don't act like I'm a fool. You never even _wanted_ a child."_

"_That's not…"_

"_If I remember correctly," the man continued, "you considered taking its life in the womb."_

"His_. It's a he—my son. And I love him, very much."_

_Ryuji smiled at hearing it, but the man didn't sound so happy._

"_No, you don't. You pretend you do. You fool others into thinking you do. You _wish_ you did, and feel terrible about the reality—but it _is_ reality, and inescapable."_

"_Please," Mother said quietly, "stop."_

"_You know the truth," the man said ruthlessly. "You know it, and you wish for a way to get rid of the boy. I can give you that. All I want in return is your people fighting on my side."_

_The pause that followed the words was much too long, and Ryuji fled._

X _Two Years Later_ X

_Something was wrong with Mother._

_It had become…obvious, more so over time. She'd gone bitter, like some drink that was too old. She didn't play with her son anymore, and hardly spoke but to scold or yell or argue. Sometimes she didn't even come home at night._

_For a time, Ryuji swore up and down that she was _not_ his mother, that she only _looked_ like mother but was in fact someone else. But at four years old, he'd mentioned it to his father, and in the resulting explosion he'd promised never to even think it again._

_But that didn't change the fact that something was wrong, and soon after his fifth birthday, Ryuji found out what._

_Found out more than he'd never wanted to know, actually._

X_ 1983—The night of The Fire_ X

_Ryuji was sneaking to the kitchen when he heard the yelling, and none of the words made any sense to his sleepy little mind, but he listened anyway._

"_Come now, what's wrong?"_

_Ryuji felt a shiver shot through him—he'd never forgotten that voice, and doubted that he ever would._

"_What's _wrong_?!"_

_That was Mother, and _she_ sounded exactly the same—that was the voice she'd used when speaking to him all the time lately._

"_What's _wrong_ is that we've just killed a human!"_

"You_ did nothing. _I _did all of the work. Doesn't that satisfy your conscience?"_

"_I was _there!_ I put the man to sleep! I made it impossible for him to save her. Humans and Elves have always gotten on splendidly—well, when they know about us, at least—and now I've taken a human life. I helped you kill Mary Winchester. And for _what_? So you can _maybesomeday_, if you get lucky, have one general in an army of thousands?"_

"_It was needed. It will have a great impact on the coming war. _Our_ war."_

"_No," Mother said staunchly. "Not _our_ war. No longer."_

"_Why, what do you mean?" the man said with exaggerated surprise._

"_I never _agreed_ to this, Azazel. _Never_." A pause, as if to gather strength. Then…"I want out."_

"_Hmm," the man said calmly. "That could be quite difficult to arrange. We do have a deal."_

"_Not anymore. The deal is off. You will not have the Elves' help in your war. I'll find my own way to deal with Ryuji and regain my husband's attention, without your help. Now leave."_

"_You want to sever our alliance. Truly?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Very well."_

_Even hidden as he was, Ryuji felt a sense of _release_, and felt relieved knowing the evil man with the pretty voice was gone._

_The relief was to be short-lived._

_The Queen of the Elves was found dead the next morning._

_XXX_

_The story said "suicide," and five-year-old Ryuji was the only person in all the Elven lands who knew the truth—who knew the danger. He wanted so badly to tell a grown-up, to take this awful burden from his tiny shoulders, but there was no one_ to_ tell. His father was in deep mourning, and insensible with grief besides. He wouldn't even look at his son, let alone come out of his bedroom, or speak to anyone._

_And all the other options were just…not good enough._

_Luckily, Elves had long since turned waiting into an art form, and so Ryuji decided to do just that—wait for a better time. No matter how long it took—and even so young he knew it would be a long time._

_For the next five years, things deteriorated. The government was taken over by Ryuji's uncle, his father's brother, and Ryuji began to give up hope in the Elven King _ever _recovering from his grief by the time he turned nine. He hadn't even _seen_ his father in almost a year—he was cared for, his lessons taught, entirely by a set of nurses and educators who came in and out all day, every day._

_It was a difficult time for everyone, but it was hardest for poor Ryuji. At nine years old, he had no friends, no siblings, virtually no family—but he did have an exceptionally heavy burden to carry, and no way to rid himself of it. And the fact that there was no sign of danger yet only made it worse._

_And every day, the load got heavier and heavier, until he woke up on the morning of his tenth birthday and couldn't take it anymore._

_XXX_

_His father was lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, his fingers drumming an irregular tattoo on the sheets next to him. He didn't look any better than he had in years, but at least he didn't look any worse, either. He did look as if he wasn't quite _there_, but then he always looked that way nowadays, and it was entirely possible that he could indeed hear and understand what was going on around him._

_Ryuji wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do. He hadn't actually seen his father alone since his mother died, let alone spoken one-on-one with him. But as he was ten years old, the solution seemed fairly simple to him, and after a couple of seconds he sat down at the bedside and began to talk._

_Over the course of half an hour, he laid out the whole story, from beginning to end, leaving nothing out. And the entire time, his father didn't so much as blink. Even at the part where Ryuji said he thought his mother had not committed suicide, after all._

_Finally, though, Ryuji finished the painful story, and he waited with infamous Elvish patience for some sort of reply._

_He sat there well into the night, and the reply never came._

_After many hours, Ryuji got up and left the room, and as he did, he realized that he was completely alone in this. He'd tried to speak to his uncle before talking to his father, and failed miserably. And there really was no one else._

_So that left him the only one to help his father._

X_ The Next Night_ X

_It was a custom, dating back to antiquity, that Elven graves were put in the cemeteries of humans, and buried in the human manner. No one had ever explained the tradition to Ryuji, and he thought that maybe even the grown-ups had forgotten why, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that Ryuji's mother was buried in the human city of Baltimore—just a step or two outside the Elven dimension, the nearest one to home—and he was determined to get there._

_He had never actually traveled between the Elven and human lands before, but he'd seen it done, and it really wasn't any more difficult than opening a door and stepping through. The change in surroundings was a bit disorienting, but still it was only an hour or two before he was kneeling in front of his mother's grave._

_He sat there for a long, long time, his mind blank, simply having no idea what to _do_ now. He'd run away from home determined to find a way to make his father better, but only now did he realize that he didn't know _how_. Who could possibly help him?_

_So, at long last, he simply decided to sleep, because he was very tired and, lest it be forgotten, only a child, after all._

_So he curled up in the cold, next to the grave, burrowed into and under the human clothes he'd borrowed from a shop down the street—to hide his true nature as well as to keep warm—and he fell asleep._

_It was there was John Winchester found him, and that was how he ended up in a motel room in Baltimore with a man he didn't know—until he'd seen the Book. Only then did he realize it._

_This was Mary Winchester's husband._

_This was the man whose wife Ryuji's mother had helped to kill._

_He only wished he knew what that _meant_ for him, and for his family._

X _End Flashback_ X

After Ryuji finished his story, John Winchester stared at him for a long, long time. He didn't look angry, or sad, or puzzled, or…_anything_, and when he finally spoke all he said was, "I need to think about this."

Ryuji was pretty sure this was a dismissal, and took it as such. He _had_ always heard that humans were…very abrupt.

* * *

_Author's Note 2: The flashbacks were fragmented, vague, and confused, I realize this. But if you think about it, it does make sense, since the story was being told from the perspective of a little kid and all. So, needless to say, there's still some explanations to come._

_And I know, I know, the wait was long, the chapter was not, and we have seen NO Sam interaction in the story yet, and it's already chapter four, but I promise the next chapter will have plenty—when it comes out._

_In the meantime, go to the nearest newsstand and pick up the first ever issue of Supernatural Magazine! That's right—a magazine dedicated solely to the guys we love and adore, available at any good American retailer. (Having read this magazine cover to cover, I can assure you that it's a good buy…)_


	5. Getting Along With Sam

Chapter 4

After John Winchester told him to leave, Ryuji went to the park, because that was where the two boys had gone, and the boys were the only other humans that he was acquainted with in the whole world. That was the childish, ten-year-old reason. The grown-up reason was that the little one was Sam Winchester, and Sam Winchester was the person Azazel was after, only no one in the little family knew it.

So, for those reasons, and also for the simple reason that Sam and Dean Winchester were _nice_ boys, Ryuji headed immediately for the nearest park, his hood once more pulled up over his head to hide his pointed ears.

He found Sam and Dean at the playground. Sam was climbing and leaping on the jungle-gym like a small monkey, while Dean watched, quite obviously torn between joining in the fun and playing the grown-up—a dilemma that Ryuji solved simply by walking up and saying, "Hello."

Dean jumped a little and said, "God! Make some _noise!"_

"I'm sorry," Ryuji said quickly, already seeing that this one was going to take much more work than little Sam. "Um…is it all right that I came? It seemed to me that your father wanted me to leave. He's thinking."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. He does that a lot. And now that you're here, you might as well stay," was the rather ungracious answer to Ryuji's inquiry. Ryuji was torn between offense and amusement, and their conversation might have died completely then and there, if Sam hadn't caught sight of them right then and shouted, "HI, RYUJI!"

"Brace yourself," Dean said as Sam started swinging his way to the ground.

"Why?" Ryuji asked bluntly, before he could think of a polite way to phrase it.

"Because I know that tone, and you're about to get yourself bowled over."

There was _something_ in his tone, and Ryuji thought maybe it was important, but he didn't have time to think about it before Sam made good on Dean's promise.

"HI, RYUJI!" the boy shouted again, the closed distance having done absolutely nothing to lower his voice, and then he flung himself forward and latched his arms firmly around Ryuji's slim waist. Ryuji stumbled a little under the sudden weight, and heard Dean huff out a breath of laughter.

Sam was grinning all over when he released Ryuji, and he asked, "How come you're here?"

"Dad's thinking," Dean replied, and Sam immediately became solemn and serious and nodded his head as if Dean had announced that their father was putting on his red cape in preparation for saving the world.

"Daddy likes to think," he said, with the air of a boy divulging the deepest of confidences. "And lots of times when he's thinking, he tells us to go to the park. Dean says he doesn't try to, but he isn't very nice sometimes."

Dean cleared his throat loudly and said, "Look, Sammy, why don't you go play on the jungle gym for a little longer, and then we can go home and have some breakfast?"

Sam grinned a slightly gap-toothed grin. "'Kay, Dean!" he said, and then he turned big brown eyes on Ryuji. "Dean doesn't like to play with me. He's too big. Will you come play?"

"Oh, Sammy, I don't think he wants to…" Dean began, and Sam's face immediately fell.

The next thing Ryuji knew, he was being fixed with two separate looks—one pleading and one slightly threatening, _Don't you dare hurt his feelings,_ kind of stare. The two combined were enough to make Ryuji forget that he had no idea _how_ to play on a jungle gym, let alone play on one with a little human boy.

"Of course," he said. "I'll be right behind you."

That seemed to be enough for Sam, and he grinned again and ran off.

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly, watching him go. "He doesn't understand things sometimes."

Something about the words reminded Ryuji that he really had no idea how much Dean really knew, and the guy certainly wasn't giving anything away, and could humans really _be_ that impassive? He didn't think they were supposed to be…

But now was not the moment, and so Ryuji pushed the questions away and ran after Sam, while Dean stayed behind and got smaller and smaller.

XXX

John Winchester had just found a direct trail to the thing that had destroyed his family five years ago, and he had no idea what to do about it, or how to feel, or even, really, what to think.

He knew what he _wanted_ to do, and feel, and think. He wanted to hate the young elf, Ryuji—wanted to _want_ to kill him, because he was the only one available. It was true that Ryuji's mother had been responsible for the destruction of John's family, and it was true that with Ryuji hanging around his sons, there was now a direct link between himself and the evil creature that had killed his wife.

Ryuji was endangering them all by being there, and that provides John all the excuse he may have needed to hate the boy, to send him away, hell, maybe even to _kill_ him.

Except…well, John didn't really want to do any of those things. Blame him if he couldn't bring himself not to _like_ the kid! And then there was the way Sam acted around him…

But the bottom line was this: Ryuji was dangerous to have around—could very well get them all killed—and John found himself wanting to keep him around.

So, stuck in this situation as he was, John did what any self-respecting man would do: he sank into a state of denial. He very firmly told himself that his decision had everything to do with Ryuji's usefulness in hunts, and nothing to do with the way Sam's grin just wouldn't quit around the elf, and then he sat sown to wait for his children and his new guest to return.

XXX

"Hey, Sammy, how about a piggyback ride?" Dean asked after he'd wrangled his little brother half an hour later and they were heading back to the motel.

Sam's eyes widened. "But you said I was getting too big!"

"Well, I changed my mind."

"But…"

"Sammy, do you really want to argue about this, or do you want to climb on?" Dean asked. He crouched down, and Sam discarded argument in favor of grinning and clambering up onto Dean's back.

As he straightened, Sam's arms and legs wrapped around him, Dean shot Ryuji a look. Ryuji couldn't really read his expression, but he knew it was not friendly, and he sighed inwardly, because he could already tell that it was going to be Dean, not John, and certainly not Sam, who was going to be his biggest obstacle to overcome.

XXX

"So here's how I figure it."

Ryuji glanced over when John finally spoke, and just as quickly looked back to the stars. He and John had come outside after John put his sons to bed, and now, after minutes of silence, it seemed that a conversation was actually on the table.

"You're dangerous to me. To my family. I can only assume that it's possible this demon is after you, even though all you want is for it to be dead. It could come here at any time. I could face it…at any time."

"And that isn't what you want?'

"Of course it is. It's all I want—except for my boys to be safe. I know I can protect them, but….I have two choices, and what I need to decide is, which one outweighs the other? That's what I've been thinking about…all day."

Ryuji didn't really understand, but he kept quiet and looked serious, and waited.

John sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "So here's what I know. You could be dangerous to me. But you could also be incredibly useful, in a number of ways. You don't seem like a bad kid—my boy Sam likes you, and I know he's young, but he's also not usually wrong."

"And…Dean?" Ryuji asked, almost timidly.

He was surprised when John laughed out loud. "Yeah, Dean. I'm sure you've picked up on the fact that he doesn't like you."

"I have. And this doesn't worry you?"

"No, it doesn't, and I'll tell you why. See, it's not you he doesn't like. In fact, I think you two could be good friends. But…Sam likes you."

Ryuji frowned. "I don't understand," he confessed.

"Neither do I, really. But…look, Dean's always been the central figure in Sam's life. His best friend, his protector, his f—reaking night in shining armor. And now you come in here, and suddenly Sam has someone new in his life, someone to hang around, to idolize, someone that he doesn't know thoroughly and completely and can still have fun figuring out. And Dean thinks you're stepping into his territory."

"But Sam doesn't look at it that way. Even while we played at the park, he never went too long without looking to make sure Dean was watching him. And he begins almost every sentence with 'Dean says.' I haven't been here two days and already I how close they are. I couldn't change that if I wanted to. I don't, though."

Ryuji couldn't entirely hide his awe at the depth of the brothers' relationship—even as an only child of an Elven family, he knew how hard that kind of love was to come by. It made him feel all funny inside, and even though he couldn't know it yet, that wonder would turn into a fierce determination, in time.

"I'm glad you realize that," John said, sounding relieved. "But Dean will be harder to convince. He won't believe it if you tell him."

Ryuji sighed. "Humans are very strange."

John smiled. "Oh, believe me. We know." His quiet chuckle rose on the breeze and then fell and died. "So, back to the subject. How much of what you read in my journal did you understand?"

If Ryuji had been a little older, a little wiser, a little more suspicious and paranoid, he might have asked the traditional question, "How did you know about that?" But he was still a child—one forced into maturity well before his time, but a child nonetheless—and he simply told the truth without hesitation.

"All of it."

"And do you know about anything that isn't in there?"

"Well, yes. I just can't think of them all at once. A little bit at a time, maybe."

John nodded slowly. "Okay." He was silent for a moment, before asking abruptly, "Do you sleep, Ryuji?"

Ryuji sighed and tried not to let his impatience show, but he didn't entirely succeed. _"Yes."_

"Well, hey, gimme a break! I didn't even know you _existed_ until last night."

"I apologize."

"See? I can't get used to you if you keep _talking_ like that. Dean can't even _spell_ apologize!"

Ryuji giggled. "Sorry. I'll try harder."

"There, now, that's more like it."

And then he headed into the motel room, and Ryuji was left wondering whether or not he was supposed to go back home now. He hadn't actually received an answer either way…

John had left the door open, though, so Ryuji drew the obvious conclusions and followed.

Humans were _terribly_ strange.

XXX

"So you're sticking around awhile."

Ryuji was surprised when Dean's whisper floated out of the quiet from the bed he now shared with Sam. He'd known the other boy wasn't asleep as he'd pretended, of course, but he hadn't expected Dean to speak to him.

"Yes. For a while. I think."

"You are. Trust me. Dad wouldn't have left you back in, otherwise."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Ryuji asked, "Dean, why do you seem not to like me?"

Dean sighed. "I like you fine. Now go to sleep."

"I _have_ only been here a day, you know. You could give me a chance."

"I _said_ I like you fine."

"No, you don't. Why do you have a problem with me?" John had already told him the answer, but maybe if Dean just said it they could argue about it the way humans liked, and then Dean wouldn't be so mad anymore.

His hopes were dashed, though, when Dean sat straight up. Ryuji could see him clearly in the dark, and his face was blazing as he said angrily, "Look, what do you care? You don't need me for a friend. You're not human. You don't belong here. You don't belong in this motel room, you don't belong in this world, and you _definitely_ don't belong around my little brother."

"Dean? Wha'z goin' on?"

Dean fell silent abruptly, then said softly, "Nothing, Sammy, everything's fine."

"You sound mad…"

"I'm not. It's okay. Really."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Go back to sleep."

"M'kay. G'night."

"G'night." Dean waited until Sam's breathing deepened and slowed, and then he leaned back against the headboard and said quietly, "Look, I know my dad has his reasons for keeping you around. And Sam likes you, so I guess I'm gonna have to get used to you."

Before Ryuji could breathe a sigh of relief, Dean went on.

"But you're not human, and my family doesn't have the best history with that sort of thing. I don't think I can trust you. So just…do me a favor, and stick to sucking up to my dad, okay? And stop trying to steal my brother from me, while you're at it"

Ryuji gaped at Dean for a long time after the other boy turned over on his side, his face to the wall, and in his astonishment he could only think one completely out-of-place thing.

_At least I finally found out how much he knows._

* * *

_Author's Note: Believe it or not, I really did know what I was doing for the first four chapters of this. But as of the last sentence of this chapter, I have no idea where I'm going with this, thanks to Dean's tampering. So from here on out, it's just me going off the top of my head. This is where it gets fun! _**claps hands**


	6. Getting Along with John

Chapter 5

"Yes, that's a fairly close resemblance, but there's more of a curve here, and it's thinner. Like a reed."

John nodded and patiently erased the offending parts of the Wendigo, then traced careful new lines. After a few minutes he sat back again, and Ryuji leaned forward over the drawing and pronounced himself satisfied.

"Remember, though, that this is only from my memories of a very long time ago. I haven't seen a Wendigo since my mother was alive and happy. Our memory is long, though—that should be an almost exact copy."

"Can you tell me how they fight?"

Ryuji shook his head apologetically. "I only saw the body before my father burned it. I didn't go with the hunt—I was only three years old."

"Why do they do it, anyway? Hunt these things? Do they have them where you live, too?"

"They're unable to cross our borders. But contrary to popular belief, Elves and humans have been on the same side since the world was young, and even though you've forgotten that alliance, and our existence, we never have."

John sighed and rubbed his eyes. "So many questions…"

Ryuji smiled at him. "Maybe someday I can explain it to you. Would you like to hear about vampires now? They could very well be extinct, but you should still hear about them."

John heaved another sigh—he did that often, Ryuji noticed—and said, "Let me sharpen my pencil…"

XXX

"Dean, am I gonna be in your class when I go to school next week?" Sam asked, staring up at his big brother as he walked.

Dean automatically searched out to keep Sam from stumbling on an uneven spot of the sidewalk and said, "No, Sammy, you'll be in the kindergarten class, but I'll be real close by. We'll see each other at lunch and walk home together and all."

"But you'll be with the fifth-graders, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's good. People are scared of the fifth-graders, and I think it'll be cool to have a big brother everyone's scared of."

Dean stared down at him for a second, then burst out laughing and slung an arm over his shoulders, pulling the boy to his side. "You're so weird, kiddo."

"That's not very nice."

In response, Dean got him in a headlock and noogied him.

XXX

Like Elves, humans seemed unable to resist falling into a routine, no matter how strange a situation was. Even the continued presence of an entirely different species couldn't change that for long, and within days Ryuji and the Winchesters found themselves falling into a pattern.

Every morning, Ryuji got up before sunrise, and he used the opportunity to escape the crowded motel room and spend an hour or so just breathing his own air. He liked the Winchesters well enough, but sometimes he craved the solitude he'd gotten used to since his mother died.

Once he'd satisfied that craving, he would go back and usually find John Winchester awake. Then he would get the family journal and sit on his bed to study it and find any gaps that needed to be filled, while John went to get that wonderful human invention, "take-out."

Ah, take-out. Humans were _so_ much more advanced than Elves in some ways…

After breakfast, Dean and Sam would usually go to the park or to play in the parking lot, and Ryuji would "earn his keep," as John said, by helping to update the journal.

It was…nice, having that routine, but it would have been better if Dean would accept him. But he'd learned not to expect miracles, and instead resolved that if sheer willpower could do it, he _would_ win the elder Winchester brother over.

XXX

A week after Ryuji arrived, John decided to stay in Baltimore for a while and rented an apartment, and the boys started school the next day.

Ryuji, of course, had nothing to learn at a human school, but he couldn't help feeling envious when Sam bounced in at the end of the day, bubbling over with stories about his first day. That feeling disappeared, however, when Dean came in, irritated and announcing that his teacher sucked and he already had homework to do.

Maybe it was better that he'd stayed at the apartment, after all. He never could've learned that stuff, anyway.

XXX

"Do you have any stories, Ryuji?"

Ryuji looked up at Sam, who was over in the other bed, and then at Dean, who was doing his homework at a little table in the room.

"I know a lot of stories. Why?"

"Will you tell me one/ Dean usually does, but I don't wanna int'rupt his homework."

"Well, I don't think I could tell stories as well as Dean can, but I can try, if you like."

He wasn't looking at Sam as he said it, and he was surprised when Dean nodded before hunching over his math problems again.

"Okay, then. Get on up here."

Sam immediately leapt to settle himself next to Ryuji, and the Elf rearranged himself until they were both comfortable and asked, "What kind of story do you want to hear?"

"Can you tell me about Elves?"

Ryuji hesitated, but he saw an opportunity here, and so he nodded and said, "All right. Let me see, what is it you say to begin stories?"

"Once upon a tine," Sam replied helpfully.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Ryuji paused a moment, casting around for the thread of his story, then began.

"Once upon a time, all the way back when the world was young, humans didn't exist. Elves shared the world with all the bad things, but we could find nothing good, and so we were very sad. But then humans were born. They had no language, and were entirely uncivilized, but we saw light in their hearts, and we kept back from them and watched them 'grow up,' seemingly before our eyes. Over several lifetimes of my forefathers, the humans learned. They made tools, and art, and then gradually moved on to build houses, then villages, then towns and cities.

"It was then that the Elves decided to approach these new creatures, and a friendship grew between us. For thousands of years, we lied side by side, and flourished together. Together, we fought the bad things, and for a long time we were happy.

"But then…the war came."

"The war?" Sam asked. "Like the one Daddy says he's fighting?"

"Well, yes, but…much bigger. You see, not all Elves and humans are good. You know that. And a long time ago, the good ones and the bad ones made armies and fought each other. It was the First War, and the results were disastrous. Both humans and Elves were very nearly exterminated, and when it was over, we retreated from one another to rebuild.

"The Elves went deep into hiding, unable to face the idea of another such war, and by the time we ventured out again, the world was unrecognizable. The people had forgotten us entirely, and we saw little hope of living among you again.

"We didn't blame you, of course, Your lives are short, and you are forced to change quickly, and adapt. I think that because of this, you'll be here long after we're gone. We were sad about our loss, but we decided that we could, at least, act as guardsmen.

"And so we watch now. We watch for danger, and when we can, we help you. It's difficult, because of where we live, but we do what we can. And we are always admiring your abilities and your advances. We only wish we could live among you again. I consider myself very lucky to be here—it's a chance no Elf has had since before the time of my grandfather's grandfather."

As he finished the story, Ryuji looked over at Dean, who had been listening intently and had abandoned any pretense of writing. Instead, he was studying Ryuji now, his expression unreadable.

But when Ryuji met his gaze, he nodded, just slightly.

It was a small victory, but it was still a victory, and Ryuji was immediately more helpful.

* * *

_Author's Note: I wrote this chapter in a little under two hours in the Borders café, so I'm sorry if it's crap. I don't _think_ it is, but if you guys don't agree, well, that's the reason._


	7. In Which John Talks A Lot

Chapter 6

Things were…different here.

That was only to be expected, Ryuji supposed. After all, this was literally a whole new world. Of _course_ things would be different.

But what Ryuji _hadn't_ expected was that he would _like_ any of the differences. He'd been so sure that he was making a sacrifice, coming to the human city of Baltimore. He'd been so sure that he'd hate it here without reservation.

But now—well, now he knew differently. Now that he'd discovered take-out, and science fiction novels, and movies, and, most wonderful of all, classic rock music, he wasn't so sure that Elves _were_ a terribly advanced race, after all. OH, certainly, the Elves had a world of bright colors, and the human cities were, for the most part, gray and terribly depressing. And maybe the Elves had buildings of elegantly sculpted and perfectly detailed design, but humans had buildings that seemed to touch the very sky and could house hundreds—_thousands_—of people at once.

And…well, _classic rock music_. Ryuji was fairly certain that classic rock music set humans far above any other race.

Oddly enough, it was that pronouncement, made on Dean's eleventh birthday when he received three such CDs, that made Dean stop treating him like the worst kind of enemy. Oh, they had a long way to go before what they had could be called _friendship_, but at least Dean acknowledged his presence without open animosity now.

And if Dean's attitude toward him were somewhat colder than desired, Sam's more than made up for it. _His _presence was a thing that was constantly bubbly and excited, and he was forever fumbling over his attempts to make both his brother _and_ his new friend play with him. It was obvious what he was trying to do, but he was doing it in such an adorable way tat no one—not even John—who prided himself on a firm hand—had the heart to explain things for him.

As for John—well, he was…John. Ryuji was already coming to understand that John couldn't be read—at all, ever. He kept his feelings closed off behind a solid steel wall, and only very rarely did he open the gate. So Ryuji really had no idea what Jon thought of him, and he had no real hope of finding out. But he hadn't been kicked out of the house yet, so he didn't mind—too much.

So, this was the way things stood now. Of the three Winchesters, one adored him, one had barely reached the point of tolerating him, and one seemed entirely impassive toward him.

Now, with this state of affairs, it would have been perfectly understandable for Ryuji to want to go home.

So…why did he not mind tat _that_ probably wouldn't happen for a while? Maybe…a long while?

Why didn't he mind that at all?

XXX

"Ryuji, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Ryuji looked up from the journal—he'd taken over the drawings of late—and put down his pencils. "Is something wrong?"

John shook his head and sat down at the foot of the bed. "Not exactly. I just…want to talk to you for a minute."

Ryuji slowly closed the journal and laid it aside completely, to show that he was paying attention. "Yes?"

John took a breath. "Okay. Remember the night you came here from the cemetery?"

"Of course."

"Well, then you remember that I was…surprised…to find you. And for some reason, I wanted to bring you back here with me. I had no idea that you'd actually been looking for _me_—I just wanted to help you out. And I didn't ask any questions, which is—out of character, for me."

"And…what questions do you have now?" Ryuji asked cautiously. _I thought I'd explained it all._

"It's just…I need to know your plans, kid."

"My plans?" Ryuji echoed. "I've carried out my plan. I've found you."

John stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. "Wow. You really _are_ just a kid."

"I never pretended I wasn't," Ryuji replied, puzzled.

"No, no, I know, it's just…never mind. So…you really have no idea how long you're going to stay?"

"I know exactly how long I play to stay, actually—as long as you'll allow me to. I…have nothing to go back to, you see."

John was quiet for a moment, studying him, and his stern face softened a little. "No, I guess you don't."

They were both silent for a moment, and then John slapped his knee. "All right, I guess I'll…factor you into _my_ plans for a while, then," he said, pushing himself to his feet.

"Sir?" Ryuji asked, and John turned at the door, looking surprised but pleased with the label, even though it had been what Ryuji called all his male elders back home.

"Yes, Ryuji?"

"I…where I come from, children begin training to fight at the age of ten. But…well, as it stands, I didn't have a chance to begin _my_ training the Elven way. Still, I need to know how to fight if I want to be any help to you beyond this book."

John was smiling now. "Ah. I see. You want me to teach you."

Ryuji nodded hesitantly, and John's smile widened.

"You'll come with Dean and I, then. Tomorrow."

And he was gone before Ryuji could thank him.

XXX

"No, you _can't_ move backward, Sammy!" Dean said, firmly moving Sam's little black circle back to its original square. "You're not Kinged yet, it's against the rules."

"Nuh-uh!" Sam replied, moving the circle again. "You just don't want me to win!"

"Kid, you couldn't win this if you talked to a genie. You only have one piece left!"

"I could still win," Sam said sullenly, crossing his arms and glaring in a way that really only ended up being adorable.

It was this, perhaps, that made Dean grin and scoot around to the checkerboard to sit next to Sam. "You're impossible," he said affectionately, and then he pulled his brother into his lap and visited upon him the ultimate punishment for said impossibility.

"DEAN! Stop it! No! Ahh! It tickles, it tickles, it _tickles!_ Waaahhh!"

John, who had, of course, been watching the whole time, chose this moment to step into the room, chuckling. "Now, Dean, isn't that just a _little_ extreme?"

Sam's giggles subsided, and he twisted out of Dean's lap and grinned. "Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, kiddo. Dean mistreating you again?"

"Yeah, Daddy!" Sam replied, obviously having no idea what "mistreating" meant. "Make 'im stop!"

Dean rolled his eyes and poked a finger at Sam's side, and Sam squealed with laughter again.

John crouched in front of them and said, "Well, do you think you could pick this up later? I want to talk to Dean for a minute."

Sam's eyes widened. "Is he in trouble?" he asked in a perfectly audible whisper.

"Nah. I just need to talk to him. Why don't you go bug Ryuji for a while?"

"I don't _bug_ him!" Sam protested indignantly, and then he leapt to his feet and scampered from the room.

"What's up, Dad?" Dean asked as Sam disappeared.

John shrugged. "Nothing much. I was just going to ask if you wanted to practice tomorrow."

Dean grinned instantly, going from worried to happy. "Awesome."

"Well, good. After breakfast, then. Oh, yeah, and Ryuji'll be practicing with us," John added casually, and as he watched, Dean's face fell.

"Oh. Why?"

"Because," John said, still watching his son, "he needs to learn to shoot if he's going to be of any more use to us than as a writer, and you need to get over whatever you have against him."

"I don't have anything against him," Dean said, too quickly.

"Dean." That was all—just that one word—but Dean wilted instantly.

"Dad, how long is he staying here?"

"He says he'd like to stay as long as we'll let him," John replied. He searched Dean's face until his son met his eyes, and then said, "So the question is, how long will we let him?"

Dean looked down at the checkerboard without answering, and when it became obvious that he didn't plan to anytime soon, John sighed and stood up.

"All right, well, tomorrow, then."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Okay."

"Okay," John repeated, heading for the kitchen. "Oh, and Dean?" he added as he reached it.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Ryuji isn't trying to steal your brother. All he's trying to do is make a friend. He's lost everything, you know—his home, his life, his family. He lost his mother. Just like you. You might want to think about that."

XXX

Ryuji held the gun with the very tips of his fingers, as if it was made of pure acid or cyanide. "What if it goes off when I don't want it to?"

John smiled a little at his pose. "Well, that's why you're careful with it."

Ryuji stared at him. "That's all? You have no reassurances for me at all?"

"Well, it's true that guns are dangerous. I'm not going to try to hide that. But a lot of that danger comes from people who didn't know how to use them."

"_I_ don't know how to use then," Ryuji reminded him, still holding the gun like he expected it to detonate at any second. "I'm not sure I want to anymore."

John didn't seem surprised by that, or impatient about it. He just looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "You know, before I ever learned to shoot a gun, I had to take one apart and put it back together something like seventy-two times, and you know what? I haven't been afraid of them since—because I _knew how they worked_. See, Ryuji, once you know something inside and out—no matter how deadly—you can see it as nothing more than what it is—a tool."

Ryuji looked skeptical, and John smiled and said, "Here, let me show you."

He took the gun, and his hands began to speed over it, until it was in pieces that never looked like they could fit together.

"Now," he said when he was finished. "See if you can put it back together."

"But…I…I can't…_what?"_ Ryuji spluttered in a manner that would have shamed any Elf, if another one was around.

"Go ahead. Just try it. It's okay if you can't the first time."

So, Ryuji hesitantly crouched next to the pieces, and sat studying them for almost ten minutes. Then, finally, he reached out to touch one, resisting the urge to close his eyes.

A hand touched his wrist before he could brush it over the gun part. It didn't apply any pressure, just rested there, and Ryuji looked up to meet Dean's eyes.

"Not that one," Dean said. "That's one of the last."

"…Oh," was all Ryuji could really think to say. He turned his attention back to the parts and studied some more, and was quite ready to burst into tears and pronounce himself stupid when Dean touched him again, on the shoulder this time.

"Here," the boy said quietly. "Let me show you."

Ryuji stared at him, a thousand questions racing through his mind. But in the end, he didn't utter any of them.

"Thanks."

* * *

_Author's Note: If I got anything wrong in the end there, I'm sorry, but I know nothing about guns. I don't _want_ to know anything about guns, even for the sake of literary accuracy, and believe me, that's saying something._

_Well, anyways. Wow. Three chapters in as many weeks, I think. I am probably condemning my muse to death here. Oh, what I will do for you, Mandy..._

_Well, okay, I just couldn't stop writing. But I'd rather blame you than myself._


	8. Time Gaps

Chapter 7

**Six Months Later**

Ryuji stood perfectly still, his whole body loose and comfortable, his hands hanging at his sides, his gun a heavy presence against his left leg as he looked at his targets. Then he swung the weapon up, and one of the cans lined up on the fence feel with each discharged bullet.

As the last can settled on the ground, Ryuji turned to face John, who'd been watching him, and smiled. "That was fun. Thank you."

"Hey, don't thank me. You're the one who did the work. You done good, kid."

"That's grammatically incorrect."

"How often are you gonna say that to me before you realize I'll never learn?"

"I a—I'm sorry," Ryuji said with another smile. "I just keep thinking about how my teacher would probably cry if he heard you speak, and I feel as if I should correct you."

John shook his head. "Well, this is _my_ world, and in _my_ world, it's _your_ speech that's a problem."

"I thought you said I was getting better."

"You are. You just slip into 'formal' sometimes, and as an eleven-year-old human, you can't do that. Not in front of people, anyway."

"I know. I just…at home, the way I speak—_talk—isn't_ formal. In fact, some people would think it was rude. I would get away with it, since I'm still technically a child, but it would still be rude, and I would be expected to grow out of it in a couple of years."

John stared at him. "You're a really weird bunch, you Elves."

Ryuji smiled. "I could say the same of you. I don't think I will, though."

"Wise choice. C'mon, the boys'll be getting off school soon, and Dean'll want to see how good you've gotten."

**Three Months Later**

"But Daddy, I don't _wanna_ move!" Sam wailed as if the world was ending. "Tommy's bringing his snake in for show-and-tell Friday!"

"I know, Sammy, and I'm sorry," John said, and he did look it. "But Uncle Bobby called, and he needs me to take care of something. We have to go to Minnesota as soon as possible."

Sam glared at him, putting all the fury a seven-year-old can possibly feel into the expression, and then he ran out of the room and a few seconds later the sound of a door slamming reached the three still remaining.

Dean sighed. "I'll go," he said quietly, and he got up and traced his brother's steps with considerably less enthusiasm.

John watched him go, and Ryuji noticed that he suddenly looked far older than he should. "He'll be all right," the hunter said, more to himself than anything. "Dean can usually get him calmed down."

"Sir," Ryuji began—he had never tried calling John anything else, and no one had ever invited him to.

"Yes, Ryuji?" John asked, as if he'd only just remembered the Elf was in the room.

"I…I don't understand what's going on," Ryuji confessed "What do you mean when you say you're…moving?"

John glanced at him. "Whaddya mean, what do I mean?"

"Well, exactly what I said, I suppose. What are you moving?"

"Um…us? Me, Sam, Dean…all of us. We're leaving town."

"Oh. Well, when will you be back?"

"Er…never," John said. "We're packing up and selling the apartment and getting in the truck and…going."

"….Oh. You mean you're just…leaving your home?" Ryuji asked dubiously. The idea was just…beyond him.

"No, Ryuji," John said gently. "This isn't our home. We don't _have_ a home anymore."

Ryuji couldn't really think of anything to say to that, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he hesitantly asked the question that was worrying him now.

"Will I go with you? To Minnesota?"

"Do you want to?"

"I think I do, yes."

"Then there's your answer."

**Four Months Later**

Today made exactly one year since Ryuji came to the human world, and a number of things had changed.

They were small things, mostly, having to do with the things Ryuji was interested in. They now ranged from Lord of the Rings and Dragonlance novels (both of which came astonishingly close to the mark on Elves) to Johnny Cash and Metallica songs. Unlike much of his kind, he hadn't picked one hobby, such as music or dance, to concentrate on and perfect.

Even his clothing had changed, perhaps permanently—he doubted he'd ever be comfortable in Elven leggings after putting on denim jeans, or with wearing his hair loose again after tying it back for so long. And he very much liked boots—padded moccasins just couldn't compare to them. His Elven kin—the males of whom never worse any kind of accessories—would have been aghast at the silver amulet around his neck and the single silver cuff he wore on his left ear.

And all this before he turned thirteen! In the eyes of his people, he wasn't even an adolescent yet—with no say in what he did or learned or wore or _liked_. But here…here, it was different. Here, they didn't care what you looked like or found interesting, or, if they did, they didn't try to change it.

And his relations here were getting better, too. It had been weeks since Dean even threw a glare in his direction—mostly, they just stayed out of each others' way, and occasionally talked about the latest rock band or dead-wrong ghost hunter TV show. Sam was, of course, as friendly and fun-loving as ever, and John was still John—would always be John.

So, yes, everything was different now. But it was a good different, and Ryuji was liking it more and more every day.

**Five Months Later**

John had stopped treating him as a guest. Ryuji began noticing that a while ago, but his suspicion was confirmed when he was asked to clean the guns before he went to bed one night.

Ryuji wasn't sure how he felt about that. Oh, it wasn't that he minded doing the work—he hadn't had anything important to do instead, or anything. It was just that the weapons weren't exactly _his_, were they?

But then, as John gave the order again, Ryuji realized something.

John wouldn't assign the chore to a _guest_, would he?

So…that would mean Ryuji wasn't a guest anymore. He certainly wasn't _family_, but at least he was more than a person taking up space in the motel rooms now.

**Five Months Later**

John took Dean and Ryuji on their first hunt not long after Dean's thirteenth birthday, as he'd apparently been planning to for many years, and as Dean had apparently been looking forward to for most of his life, if the overwhelming excitement that spilled over into everything he did for days on end was any indication.

The hunt was what Jon had called a "simple salt-'n-burn"—made up entirely of the digging up and burning of a corpse in the local cemetery of Aspen Springs, Colorado, the destination of the sixth "move" Ryuji had undergone with the Winchesters.

But even though it was a relatively easy job, it was still important, establishing a routing and allowing the two Winchesters and Ryuji to adjust to working together.

It all went off without a hitch, a fact that surprised everyone concerned—and, perhaps, slightly disappointed the two boys, who had maybe been looking forward to a little more action, still partially convinced of their own invincibility.

But that would all change someday, and for right now, Dean and Ryuji were content with their new status—as hunters.

**Christmas Eve, 1992**

John was home for Christmas this year, which was apparently a rare thing in the Winchester household, because everyone was very excited. There were decorations and a sad, pathetic little tree and a lot of scurrying that culminated in a pile of gifts under the tree and a dinner of pizza and Cokes consumed on the motel room floor, between the two beds and the rollaway Ryuji slept on.

Ryuji hadn't ever been told about the human ritual of "Christmas gifts" and so, of course, hadn't gotten anyone anything. Not that he would have had the means, of course. And Sam and Dean had no money, so basically there were three presents under the tree—one for each of the Winchester boys, and…one for Ryuji.

"I…can't believe you did this," Ryuji said quietly, staring at the brown paper-wrapped package that had been handed to him after Dean and Sam had opened theirs.

"I can't, either, really," John replied. "But I got it from my friend Jim, and…I want you to have it."

Ryuji had been pulling off the wrapping as John spoke, and now he pulled out a set of black wristbands—exactly matching the ones John, Dean, and Sam wore themselves.

Ryuji had no idea what John had been trying to say with the gift, but as he slipped the bands on, he felt tears gathering behind his eyes all the same.

**Two Years and Six Months Later**

For a long, long time, Ryuji had missed his home. He'd missed the elegant, musical mode of speech of his people, their beautiful works of art, the way they would gather around their own in times of need. He missed walking down the street and knowing everyone he saw, and always knowing what was going to get him in trouble and what was okay.

But…even though he did still miss those things a little, his longing had faded over time, and now it wasn't much more than a little, bright spot in the back of his mind, behind all the new ideas and routines and people and interests. Now, Sam _and_ Dean were his friends, and John was his caretaker, and he himself was—well, not human, but he didn't entirely feel like an Elf anymore, either. He was just…floating, somewhere in the middle, and oddly, he was all right with that.

He was almost fifteen years old now, and in the almost five years since he'd come here for the first time, he hadn't once pictured himself going home anytime soon. He wasn't sure exactly how much he wanted to anymore.

XXX

"No, you're letting go too early, it's never gonna go far enough if you don't learn to hold on to it longer," Dean said in amused exasperation, picking up the baseball and pressing it back into Ryuji's hand. "C'mon, try again."

Ryuji stared down at the ball and asked, "And _why_ do you enjoy this game so much?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. 'Cause it's simple, maybe. It doesn't stress me out. Sports are cathartic, I guess."

"Really? Because _I_ find it _entirely_ stressful."

Dean grinned. "Well, that's 'cause you such at it, and that's not something you're used to."

Ryuji rolled his eyes. "Funny."

"I thought so. But you'll get it. It's not as hard as you think. Come on, try again. Throw the ball."

Ryuji was gearing up to obey when Sam, who was sitting on the ground off to the side, reading a comic, suddenly piped up, "Hey, Dean, who's that watching us?"

Dean's reaction was instantaneous and predictable—he turned to look while at the same time stepping closer to his brother in a defensive position.

Ryuji, on the other hand, went completely still, staring wide-eyed at the tall man that was suddenly _there_ in the lot with them.

"Ryuji?" Dean asked, obviously noticing his shock. "What is it? Who is that?"

Ryuji replied without taking his eyes off the man who was now moving toward them.

"My father."

* * *

_Author's Note: Well. That was…not what I expected at all. Interesting. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did. I, for one, can't wait to see where this goes…_

'_Til next chapter!_


	9. Daddy Issues

Chapter 8

_Why does he look so different?_

Absurdly, that was all Ryuji could think of as his father—his _father_, who was on his feet and strong enough to get to the human world and moving toward him in powerful strides—came closer. Elves never changed, so why did his father break that rule and become somehow diminished from the last time Ryuji had seen him?

Or was his father the same as ever, and it was he himself who had changed?

He was still trying to figure it out when his father—_Alaron_, his name was _Alaron_—reached him and said quietly and without ado, "Hello, Ryuji."

There were no hugs, no reunion tears. For one thing, it hadn't been that long since they'd seen each other, in Elven time, and for another—well, their relationship just wasn't like that. So instead of all that, Ryuji looked at his father—he noticed he didn't have to look up so far now—and said, "Hello, father."

It was a solid ten seconds before Sam broke the silence—a record for the nine-year-old, possibly. "Does this mean the game's over? Because I liked seeing Ryuji be bad at something."

"Funny, funny boy," Ryuji growled, poking Sam in the side and causing him to curl into himself and squeal. For that one second, he'd entirely forgotten his father was there, and when he remembered, he straightened abruptly and found Alaron looking at him with no emotion whatsoever.

"Oh. Yes. Father. This is Dean and Sam Winchester. I've been staying with them and their father—"

"Yes, I know," Alaron said.

And then the silence came again, until Dean said slowly, "Okaaay…look, Ryuji, I'm gonna take Sam to get some ice cream, 'kay? Dad won't be back for a while—you guys have plenty of time to…talk."

"Thanks," Ryuji said, disregarding the sudden urge to scream, _No! Don't leave me! _As a common, simple fight-or-flight reaction.

And then they were gone, and Ryuji was alone with his father, who still wasn't saying anything.

"So…do you…want to come inside?"

XXX

Alaron showed expressions once they were alone, and the first he displayed was distaste at the sight of the small motel room jam-packed with the usual two beds and a rollaway. And it was true that the room was cramped and not exactly bright and airy, but it wasn't dirty and it didn't smell bad. It was perfectly adequate.

But apparently Alaron didn't think so.

"This is where you fled to, then."

"No," Ryuji said. "This is where I came with the Winchesters. Baltimore is where I 'fled.' If that's what you want to call it."

"You call it something else?"

"Yes. I call it…searching. I needed help, and you weren't in a condition to provide it."

"Well, as it turns out, I know more than they do about how Mother died. In fact, I probably know more than anybody in the whole world. Which…doesn't give me much hope, but I'm hoping to find out more."

"And I assume you've taken steps to do this?"

"Well…no. I'm learning to hunt at the moment."

"You've learned to use a bow?" Alaron asked, sounding surprised for the first time.

"…No," Ryuji said again, and knowing how his father would react, decided to say it quickly. "I've been hunting…the human way. With…with guns."

Alaron actually jumped a little, but when he spoke again all he said was, "You have…changed, Ryuji."

"Of course I have. You haven't really _seen_ me in ten years."

He said it more loudly than he'd intended, and the silence that followed seemed unnaturally loud.

Finally, though, Alaron sighed and said, "We can…talk about this later. I have something for you." He reached into his pack and pulled out a much-folded yellowed piece of paper.

"What is it?" Ryuji asked, taking it and unfolding it. It was a short letter, written in fine, neat writing.

"It is…the truth," Alaron said, reluctantly. "You won't find much in it, but…enough. Read it."

XXX

_My Dear Alaron,_

_You should know I love you very much—more than I ever thought possible before I met you, perhaps. I realize that I should be happier about this new child of ours. I _want_ to be happy about it. But somehow, I find myself worried—about many things._

_The main worry I have is the boy himself. He does not seem like a proper Elven child at all. His coloring is too dark, his hair is too light, and he is far too loud—as if is bewailing the entire world. Human babies often do this, I realize, but Elven children should be quieter._

_And yet, no one seems to see how wrong he is. The house revolves around him—as if he has seized your minds and made it impossible for the truth to be known. No one will believe me, which is why I am writing you this._

_This brings me to my confession._

_I am the cause of Ryuji's injury._

_It was never my intention—I had a momentary lapse, and Ryuji's blindness in his eye is the result. I never intended it, but…I do not feel sorry for it, either. I feel nothing about it, and this frightens me._

_I feel nothing for my son, and it frightens me._

_You, however—you, I feel something for. I think of nothing but you, and I miss the time when you thought of nothing but me. I hope to see those days again._

_Love, Your Wife_

XXX

"It was found among her things. She never gave it to me. It is dated, and—I remember that the day after this was written, she became…very warm toward you. It feels…wrong…now, how she changed overnight, but at the time no one saw it."

Ryuji could barely comprehend the words, but somehow he managed to find his vice.

"She…blinded me. And…hated me."

He'd never really considered his sightless left eye to be much of a hindrance—he'd never even told the Winchesters about it, because he'd come to find out that that kind of thing was considered a handicap in the human world, and the fact that he could shoot perfectly well with it would have awed and confused them, which was something Ryuji could not afford. In fact, he rarely, if ever, even _thought_ about his blind eye, and he certainly didn't waste time being unhappy about it.

But the idea that his mother had caused it, and didn't _regret_ causing it...that was a whole other story.

_You wish you could love him…but you don't…_

So many things made sense now, and he wished they didn't.

"Ryuji, your mother…he was…her mind was broken by the time you were born. It had little or nothing to do with you—I only blame myself for shoving that knowledge aside for so long. Perhaps if I had accepted it…if I had tired to help…things would have turned out differently. But the point is, the woman who wrote this letter—she was not your mother. She was not my wife. She was someone no one knew—a stranger. _Never_ let it change what you think of yourself."

It was the most his father had ever said to him at one time, and for a moment, Ryuji couldn't say anything at all.

Then, quite abruptly, he looked up at Alaron and said, "Is this why you came?"

Alaron sighed. "Partly, yes. There is more, though." He paused, then said, "You are needed. At home. I…want you to come home, Ryuji."

* * *

_Author's Note: I can hopefully promise that this will be the last Winchester-less chapter, because this story seems to be winding down. I estimate maybe two or three more chapters, but who knows? Certainly not me._

_So, anyway, yeah. I wrote this in about four hours during a snow day, which is why it's short, but I hope you enjoyed it!_


	10. The Cherry On Top

Chapter 9

The declaration probably shouldn't have taken him so _completely_ by surprise. After all, his father could hardly have come to find him just so they could exchange lame pleasantries and dark family secrets, could he?

So, yeah, maybe the fact that Alaron had come to bring him back home shouldn't have felt like an attack from way out in left field (and yeah, just because Ryuji couldn't throw a baseball, that didn't mean he didn't know the lingo), but it did. It really, really did, and for a long time Ryuji could only stare, until at last he came up with a reply.

"_Huh?"_

XXX

"So Whaddya think they're talking about?"

Dean took a bite of his banana split, skillfully arresting any potential drips before they could fall to the sidewalk, and glanced at Sam, who was walking next to him, looking thoughtful. "Not a clue, kid. Not a clue."

"Well, it's gotta be important, right? Like, life-or-death kind of important."

"Oh, yeah? What makes you say that?" Dean asked absently, digging around in the remaining ice cream for his cherry.

"Well, think about it. I don't knew where he's from, but I'm betting it's far away. And Ryuji's been here for almost as long as _I_ can remember, and no one's ever come looking for him before. So it must be something big that's bringing his dad here now, right?"

"I guess. Maybe," Dean replied, still searching for the little red fruit. He _knew_ it was in there, it was his favorite part, and cherries _always_ came with banana splits…

"Hey, what's with you?" Sam asked suddenly, and Dean looked up to find his brother staring at him with the kind of shrewd expression that just _didn't belong_ on an eleven-year-old face.

"Nothing, Sammy, nothing. I'm good. Just can't find my dang cherry."

"Uh-huh. Okay, let's just say I believe you. And you already ate it."

"I did not. The cherry's the best part, I would've noticed if I'd eaten it already."

"Well, trust me, bro, you did. Maybe you were just too distracted to notice."

Dean grunted. "Yeah, whatever. I don't wanna argue about cherries anymore."

Sam just grinned victoriously, and for a minute or two they walked in silence and ate their ice cream. Then Sam said, "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?"

Dean went on his guard immediately, but the answer to that question had always been, and probably would always be, the same. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

"Ryuji's dad. Did you think he was…erm…well, _scary_ at all?"

It was an altogether unexpected question for so serious a tone, and Dean couldn't hold back a burst of laughter even as he nodded.

But even in his current state of brother-induced amusement, Dean was worried, because what he _hadn't_ told Sam was that he was pretty sure he knew _exactly_ why Ryuji's dad had come to find him after all these years.

He just…preferred not to think about it.

XXX

Alaron stared at his son for a long time after he uttered his one sound of surprised disbelief, and all Ryuji could do was stare back. He honestly could not process this information—but he did have one question.

"Why?" he blurted, almost angrily. "Why here? Why _now?_ In five years, you haven't shown any concern over where I've been or what I've been doing or even whether I'm alive or dead, and I know that's not a lot of time to us, but I've been_ here_ and it seems like it's been a long time. Why have you come now?"

Alaron gazed at him, and in his eyes was a deep sorrow, but no apology. There never was apology among the Elves.

"Ryuji, your people are in trouble. Your mother, when she died, left behind a price, and in her absence it is left to her kin. In this case, her kin are all of the Elves in the city, but it is a price we refuse to pay."

"What are you talking about?" Ryuji asked quietly, suddenly feeling afraid.

Alaron sighed, and looked very much as if he wanted to sit down, if he trusted the beds at all. "We know…more now, about why your mother died. She had dealings with the Dark, Ryuji."

Ryuji wished more than anything that he could be surprised, but…he knew the truth, and it made sense. "And the price she was to pay was…us. She delivered the Elves into the hands of her murderers, and now they've come to collect."

Alaron nodded in approval. "You show an excellent grasp of the situation, Ryuji. The Elves are mustering an army for the first time since the war, and I want you there. You have very many things to learn, and very little time."

"You're not making any sense," Ryuji said, tugging at his long braid in a frustrated gesture. "What do you _want_ from me, exactly? What can I do there? I can't even shoot a bow. If you would allow me to bring my gun it would be different, but…"

"That is out of the question," Alaron replied implacably, and Ryuji was surprised when his hair didn't just up and come off with his latest tug.

"I _know_. I just said that, and you're not answering my question. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to face what you _are_, Ryuji."

Ryuji looked steadily at him. "I'm not anything, Father. Not anymore."

"You may think that and, yes, even wish it, but it will never prove true. You are still the Elven prince, Ryuji, and my successor. It is time you came home and prepared to take my place, should I meet my fate in battle. It is…our only hope."

Ryuji wanted to dispute the idea that Alaron was going to die in the coming war, but he was no Seer, able to know the future, and he simply couldn't say.

But there was one thing he _could_ dispute.

"That's not me anymore, Father. These days I know more about the human life than I do about the Elven one, and…"

"And this is what worried me," Alaron uncharacteristically, cut him off.

"…Okay, you've lost me again," Ryuji confessed after a moment of thought.

"_That_ is what I mean. You have become one of them, Ryuji. You are not an Elf anymore."

Ryuji scoffed. "You're crazy."

"You see? You never used to speak to me like that. You never used to push all of your words together, making two into one, and you _never_ argued with me."

"Maybe, but it's different now. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I wouldn't fit in there anymore. I'm not sure I want to. I can't be your successor, Father. I can't learn to lead people I no longer understand. It wouldn't be right."

"You can learn," Alaron said quietly, and something in his tone struck Ryuji with realization.

"Oh, wow," he said quietly. Then he chuckled, and stood up with his hands on his hips. "Oh, wow, wow, wow," he repeated, turning away from his father and walking around the bed to stare at the wall for a moment before turning back to Alaron. "I don't believe this. You're not asking for them, are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're not asking for you. _You_ want me to come back. But instead of just _telling_ me that, you chose to stay true to form and pretend _you_ could care less."

Alaron simply shook his head, completely nonplussed, and Ryuji chuckled bitterly. "You really haven't changed a bit, have you? I'd hoped when you finally snapped out of the dream you've been in since Mother died you'd…but you're still the same guy you've always been, aren't you?"

Alaron still didn't answer, and Ryuji sighed.

"I think you should leave."

"Ryuji…"

"No. Just…please. Leave. Go back to people who actually need you."

Alaron opened his mouth and then closed it again, and before Ryuji could process his victory his father was heading for the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob, but he didn't turn as he spoke.

"You can not stay here forever, Ryuji. You will have to leave at some point, and you will find your mistake then. When that happens, you know where to find me."

Ryuji considered arguing some more, but at the last minute he decided to concede the ground. "I do."

"And I want you to remember one other thing—a lesson you should have been taught long ago. I want you to remember that the world, no matter which one you reside in, looks coldly upon the one who forgets who he is."

And then Alaron opened the door, and stepped through it, and Ryuji was left alone, with only his thoughts for company.

XXX

John was already back at the motel when Sam and Dean got there, but he was alone, holding a piece of paper, and looking confused.

"Dean, you wanna tell me what the he—"

Dean threw a glance at his brother and John swiftly changed his mind.

"—Eck this is?"

He waved the paper, and Dean took it and read it.

_Dean and Sam. He said some things to me that I need to think about, so I've gone for a walk. I'll be back later. Ryuji._

"He's articulate, isn't he?" Dean murmured, handing the paper off to Sam, who had been tugging at his arm as he read.

"What's it mean?" John asked. "Who's 'he'?"

Dean shrugged. "Ryuji's dad showed up earlier this afternoon while you were gone. Me and Sam went to get some ice cream. That was the last time we saw him. I dunno what his dad said to him. Guess we won't find out 'til he gets back."

He didn't say anything more, but the look he gave John said all that couldn't be said aloud in front of Sam.

_I don't like the sound of this._

XXX

**Late That Night**

"Wait. So you're just _going?"_ Dean said incredulously, staring at Ryuji, who looked down at his knees and nodded.

"I…I think I have to."

"_Why?"_

"Dean…" John said quietly, but for once Dean didn't heed the warning.

"No. I want an explanation. I want a good, solid _reason_ why, after staying with us for half my little brother's life, after learning our secrets and making me actually _like_ you and becoming Sam's best friend in the world, you're just _leaving."_

Ryuji looked miserable. "I'm sorry, Dean. You have no idea how much I wish I could stay, but…I can't. My father said some things to me about how I'm becoming like you. And even though I don't think that's a bad thing, I do know that if I forget what it is to be an Elf, I'll become…lost. And…more than that, I think I'm _needed_ out there—in the world."

"You're talking in riddles," Dean griped, and Ryuji smiled a little.

"Maybe because it's a riddle to me. It's just a feeling I have, and after what happened with my mother, I've learned to go with my gut. So…yeah, I'm going. Not forever—don't think that for a minute. But…for a while. Until I get it together."

Dean looked at him for a long time, then stood abruptly. "Fine. Then you figure out how to tell Sam. I'm going to bed."

Ryuji watched him sadly as he left and murmured, "I'd just made friends with him, too."

"Don't worry about it, kid," John said. "And don't take it personally. He's just…thinking of Sam. Like always. Doesn't want him to get hurt. He gets it, though—he won't say it, but…he knows."

"You think so?"

"Yeah," John replied, smiling a rare smile. "Yeah, I really do."

XXX

It was weird, but Sam seemed to deal with the fact that Ryuji was leaving fairly well. Where Dean had expected tears and anger, there was only a trembling lower lip and a shaking, "When will you come back?" The confession that it would be a while elicited only a, "But you will be back, right? Promise?"

Ryuji smiled at him and said, "Of course I promise. I could hardly leave you forever, could I? And in the meantime, you always have Dean, right?"

Sam gave him a watery smile.

"Right."

XXX

"Are you sure you'll be able to find us when you want to?" John asked, digging Ryuji's last shirt out of the drawer and tossing it into Dean's, who had become the new owner of all the Elf's old clothes.

"Easily," Ryuji assured him, resting his gun on his shoulder and waiting patiently for John to join him.

"Well…all right, then. Let's…get you gone, huh?"

Ryuji smiled sadly. "Yeah. Let's get me gone."

Sam and Dean were waiting outside, tossing their baseball back and forth, but when Ryuji and John came out they abandoned their game and came over to say goodbye.

They were an Elf and three Winchesters, so it wasn't much of a goodbye—more of a "see you soon, don't get yourself killed," and so on and so forth.

Sam was the only one who didn't say a word, and that hurt, but Ryuji decided not to try and coax him into speech, and was walking away when the boy shouted, "Ryuji, wait!"

He stopped dead, and turned just in time to catch the small figure hurtling toward him. Sam clung tightly to him, and Ryuji froze for a moment and then hugged him back, just as tight, smiling gently.

It was the first time he'd been hugged by anyone except his mother, but he sincerely hoped it wouldn't be the last. It felt…nice. It felt like being loved.

* * *

_Author's Note: Well, we had a snow day today, and so I sat down and, once again, wrote most of a chapter at once. And we're supposed to have another one tomorrow. I am so sick of snow days…the world is ending. ENDING, I tell you! CALL THE WINCHESTERS!_

…_Okay, I'm done now. Review, please!_


	11. General Awkwardness

Chapter 10

Ryuji missed a lot in the following years. He missed all the "firsts"—Sam's first day of high school, the place that forever cemented his ideas of higher education, the first time he brought a girl home to be thoroughly traumatized by John and Dean, his first hunt and the first illegal drink shoved on him by his big brother.

Ryuji missed the point when Sam's relationship with his father began to erode, when he began to automatically treat Dean as both father and brother, when he lost all his illusions and began to make some serious plans to give up the hunting life.

And most importantly, he missed The Fight—the final severing of a father-son relationship, the breaking point that sent Sam off into the world alone to face the rigors of the collegiate lifestyle.

And yeah, maybe during all those things, Sam could have used what was unequivocally his best friend, around or not. Maybe it hurt that Ryuji wasn't there to help him through the rough patches as he got used to living without the weird little support system he'd gotten used to growing up.

And yeah, when Sam looked hard at himself and admitted what he couldn't tell anyone else—maybe he was angry at the Elf. Maybe he held a grudge against Ryuji for staying away for almost a decade without so much as a letter. Maybe, if Ryuji had come back into his life on a sunshiny day when everything was peachy-keen and relatively not horrible, Sam would have had some choice words for him.

But in the end, Ryuji didn't come back on one of those days. In the end, Ryuji came back on a day when Sam really _needed_ him, and that was worth more than any apology or a chance at a few choice words.

XXX

**November 2, 2005**

Sam hadn't said a word in almost five hours, and Dean had no idea what to do. Any stab at conversation he attempted fell flat and stupid, and Sam was shooting off palpable _Leave me alone_ vibes, anyway.

That, coupled with the fact that Dean's reunion with his brother had been marred by a fiery conflagration ending in a brutal murder, pretty much made this the worst night in the history of the entire universe, and at the moment all Dean wanted was a drink. A tall, stiff drink with lots and lots of alcohol and a little bit of ice to make it cold and maybe a nice gal to go with it and really end the evening right.

It was tempting, right up until he glanced at his little brother. Sam was plainly exhibiting Angstmuffin Pose, curled up under a pile of blankets on his bed, his fingers curled around the edges of the sheet, facing Dean, just…staring. Right about then any desire for anything alcoholic pretty much vanished and he found himself wanting nothing other than to make it _okay._

And, of course, as it was with everything in Dean's life, the one thing he wanted was also the one thing that wasn't possible.

XXX

The building that had housed little Sammy Winchester for almost three years was nothing more than a burnt-out shell now, and Ryuji was scared beyond belief because he had absolutely no idea what had _happened_. He didn't understand why there was a big red truck and hoses in the street, or why everyone who should be inside that building was milling around on the lawn in their pajamas—except Sam. Sam wasn't there, and Ryuji was terrified.

But…all the commotion…it couldn't possibly have to do with Sam, because Ryuji hadn't spoken to him in eight years and he _refused_ to let things end like that between them.

It just…wasn't possible.

XXX

Midnight was usually a time when the streets and the parking lots were quiet, with everyone home or getting drunk in some random bar, so when someone banged on their door, Dean was immediately on his guard. He rolled out of bed, knife in hand, noting with a stab of concern that Sam hadn't reacted to the knock except with a few blinks, and headed toward the door. He hesitated for a moment with his hand on the knob, trying to decide if he could possibly handle a fight tonight, but—well, what if it was John?

That thought settled it, and without any more hesitation he turned the knob and pulled the door open.

XXX

Sam watched Dean slide out of bed and creep toward the door as if it were a rather interesting movie. He didn't feel that the revelation of who was at their door would personally affect him in any way, but he was mildly curious all the same, so even though all he wanted was to close his eyes and just _sleep_, he watched anyway.

Dean hesitated for a minute and then opened the door quickly, as if he wanted to get it over with fast. Then he just sort of…froze, and Sam found himself craning his neck to see who was on the threshold, though five minutes ago he'd thought that simple movement beyond him entirely.

And then their guest stepped through the door and for a moment Sam forgot his hollow exhaustion.

Ryuji looked different. Sam noticed that instantly, but for the life of him—which, at the moment, was pretty worthless, but whatever—he couldn't figure out why. He didn't really have any time to think on it, either, because Ryuji zeroed in on him immediately and the next second was at his side, pulling him up into a hug that squeezed all the breath out of him and somehow redeemed eight years' worth of stolen friendship.

"I'm so sorry," the Elf murmured in his ear, and Sam nodded even though he didn't know exactly what the apology was targeted at. Jess? Leaving? Not showing his face in so long? _What?_

But regardless, Sam's answer would have been the same anyway.

"Me, too."

Dean was still standing by the open door, and Ryuji only let go when he closed it, trying for quiet but not entirely succeeding.

Without the support of Ryuji's hug, Sam found that his momentary burst of faux energy had vanished and he sagged against his pillows, his eyes closing involuntarily.

He felt the mattress dip and then rise as Ryuji stood again, and a moment later Dean said, "Sammy, I'm gonna take Ryuji outside and talk with him. You get some rest, okay?"

Sam dragged his eyes open in panic and said, "You need to rest, man. Don't worry, he'll still be here in the morning." He looked at Ryuji as he spoke and Sam could well imagine the stern, "Yes, you _are_ going to do what I say, because it's what Sammy wants" expression the Elf was probably on the receiving end of right now.

Ryuji nodded and said, "I will. I promise."

"There, see? Get some sleep, Sammy."

It wasn't necessarily an order, but Sam's eyelids followed it as if it was. By the time Dean came over and pulled all the blankets up to his chin and tucked a knife under his pillow just in case, Sam was already dozing.

But he did need to say one thing, before he forgot.

"Ryuji?"

"Yes, Sam."

"'M glad you're here."

He could almost see the smile he was getting right now, from both his brother and his friend.

"Me, too, Sam. Me too."

XXX

Dean closed the door to the motel room and leaned against it, thumping his head against the wood with a sigh. "Okay, my turn. God, this sucks."

Ryuji leaned against the wall next to him, shuffling his feet. "You know, when I saw the chaos at Sam's apartment building tonight…I don't think I've ever been so scared. I had this horrible feeling, like…like the world was upside down. Like everything was wrong and nothing I could do would make it right. How do you _do_ this every day, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "You do what you have to. And…well, this _is_ Sammy we're talking about. I don't exactly have a choice."

"Yeah, he is one soul-stealing boy, isn't he? It's as if you literally can't help making him the center of your life in one way or another. It's no wonder he had no trouble getting that girl of his."

There was something in his tone, some layer of regret that made Dean look at him quickly, but before he could catch anything, Ryuji changed the subject.

"It was the demon, wasn't it? The one that killed my mother and yours? It came for Sam tonight, didn't it?"

Dean sighed heavily. "Yeah. It did. I don't even know what happened before I pulled him out of the apartment. We haven't exactly gotten around to talking about it yet." He looked over at Ryuji and asked, "How did you end up here, anyway?"

Ryuji shrugged. "I found someone from Sam's group—Derek…something—and he gave me the Cliff Notes and told me where you guys had gone."

"Yeah. Well, what fits. But what I meant was, how'd you end up in Palo Alto? Tonight, of all nights? I don't believe in coincidence, so start talking."

Ryuji chuckled. "You're such a cynic. Maybe it _was_ just a coincidence. Ever think of that?"

"Don't believe it for a minute." Dean pinned him with a stern look. "Truth. Now."

"All right, okay, fine," Ryuji said. "The truth is…well, a long story, actually. But the short version is that I've sort of been keeping an eye on Sam. I've seen him off and on over the years, but I've been especially close since he left you and John. I mean, I know you've been watching too, but…well, it never hurts to have an extra eye out. And…well, I've missed him. I've missed all of you."

"So why didn't you go see him?" Dean asked carefully.

Ryuji huffed his breath a little. "I didn't see him because…" He paused, as if searching for words, and then said, "Okay, here's how it is. I found Sam here about a month after he arrived. He's already met his Jessica by then, but they weren't dating yet—just spending time together. But over the months, they grew closer as I watched. I was there the whole time—watching them fall in love. And I just…didn't want to drop any bombs on him. He just…seemed so happy."

The regret was back, and this time it was obvious and suddenly a thousand little things made sense to Dean. The real reason Ryuji had stuck around all Sam's life without making another appearance, the underlying tone that had somehow been present through this entire conversation, the hug that had gone on a little too long in there and the little whispered apology that Dean had managed to pick up during that hug.

The sudden understanding that struck Dean right then had enough punch that it might have actually knocked him a step back if he hadn't had solid brick supporting him.

"Wait…are you…do you…"

"Do I…what?" Ryuji asked, puzzled.

"Oh, my God," Dean breathed. "You do."

"Dean, what are you talking about?" Ryuji asked, irritated.

"I'm talking about the feelings you've developed for my little brother while you were…what did you call it? Oh, yeah, keeping an eye on him," Dean said flatly. The deer-in-headlights expression on Ryuji's face convinced him, and he chuckled without humor. "Oh, my God, I don't believe this. It's true, isn't it?"

"And what if it is?" Ryuji asked quietly. "What does it matter? It can't go anywhere. He's not…and even if he was, it doesn't matter, because I'm not _here_. And right now he's heartbroken and grieving and what he needs is a _friend._ I'd like to be that friend, so could we please just…not have this conversation? Ever again?"

Dean studied him for a minute and, upon determining his sincerity, sighed and said, "Yeah, okay. But don't _ever_ mention it to him, all right? He'll just feel guilty and you'll feel bad and it'll be enormously awkward, not to mention the fact that this whole idea is just disturbing to me on a deep level. Not that I have a problem with…because I don't. It's just that Sam is _Sam _and…okay, ya know what? I think I'm gonna agree with you that we should never mention this again."

Ryuji didn't say anything, and for about ten minutes they just stood there awkwardly, until finally the Elf said, "Well, I have something for you. It's actually why I went to the apartment on _this_ particular night. I was going to give it to Sam, but now…" He shrugged. "Anyway, here."

He reached into the small bag slung over his back, pulled something out, and handed it over. Dean took it and stared at it, shocked because it couldn't possibly be what he thought it was could it?

But upon flipping through the thick brown book, he discovered that it was _exactly_ what he thought.

Dean looked up and tried not to seem accusing.

"Ryuji, why do you have my dad's journal?"

* * *

_Author's Note: I forgot to warn you that this chapter was going to make some of the Pilot AU. But I'm guessing you figured that out by now. Also, you guys should know that the entire last half of the chapter was pretty much the last thing I'd expected. I did kind of like it, though, and I'm really hoping you guys feel the same way. You know how you can tell me? That's right, you can review!_

_  
Bet ya weren't expecting that one, were ya?_


	12. Weirdness

Chapter 11

Sam woke up feeling just as exhausted, if not more so, than he'd been when he'd gone to sleep, and his first thought was, _Well, _that_ doesn't make any sense…_ Maybe he was getting sick. Maybe he would blow off classes for the day, stay in bed and let Jess do her Florence Nightingale routine. That might be nice…

Sam turned gingerly onto his side, and saw his brother lying on a pallet set up between their beds. Dean had obviously been watching him for a while, and now he said quietly, "Hey."

Sam closed his eyes and sent out his reply with his next breath. "Hey." He blinked, and frowned. "Why're you on the floor?"

Dean rolled his shoulders and neck, stretching out the kinks, and said, "I let Ryuji take the bed."

Sam's eyes snapped wide open, and he managed to struggle up into a half-seated position. "Ryuji! Where'd he go? You promised he'd be here—I…"

"Hey, hey, calm down," Dean said soothingly, sitting up. "I sent him out to get you some food." He nudged Sam with his elbow with a muttered, "Move over," and situated himself in the vacant space on the bed, sitting against the headboard, Sam lying down again next to him. He watched his brother for a long time and then asked, "So how're you feeling? And don't give me the same B.S. answer you gave your friends."

The question was off-the-cuff, casual on the surface, and it was a mark of how long they'd been apart that it took Sam a whole minute to pick out the concern—or maybe it was just a mark of how tightly wrapped he was in his grief.

But either way, Dean had just asked him a sincere question, had genuinely opened the floor for what could only be described as an homage to chick-flickdom. It was a rare opportunity, and Sam seized it.

"I…don't have a clue, actually. Last night, while my mind was still working, I tried to figure it out, but the truth is, I don't feel a damn thing. And that's scaring me. I'm scared of this hole that seems to be inside me, but…I don't know how to fill it up. It used to be _her_ that filled it up, but now…" Sam sighed and wiped at his eyes with a bitter little chuckle. "God, this is so stupid. Gotta pull it together…sorry…"

"Hey, forget about that," Dean said smoothly, placing an arm on his shoulder. "It's okay. Just as long as you realize that I am not available as a Kleenex."

Sam emitted a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and rubbed at his eyes. Once he was sure he could stow the tears back where they belonged—where had they _come_ from, anyway? He wasn't _feeling_ anything—he shifted on his pillow and looked up at his big brother, blinking owlishly. "I'm just…really tired."

"Then go back to sleep."

"No…bad idea…seems I don't like the waking up part much nowadays."

For a minute he thought Dean was going to come back with something like, "Well, you can't exactly quit sleeping," but as usual his brother surprised him.

"Yeah, I get that." He was silent for a beat, then added, "I'll just sneak some sleeping pills into your water later."

Well, maybe not _that_ surprising.

And then Sam felt something he hadn't felt in _years_—fingers, alternately scratching and rubbing his left arm, from his shoulder all the way down to his hand. He smiled a little, his eyes still closed.

"Not fair."

"Your own fault, dude. You're the one who planted his whole 'never sleeping again' idea in my mind. You made me pull out the big guns."

Dean's voice drifted over him, the relentless scratching never ceasing, and Sam felt himself already dozing off. He'd never really figured out _why_ Dean's old childhood trick—which should have been beyond irritating—had always been able to make him feel safe and comforted and so _sleepy_, but damn if it didn't work every time.

"You suck…" he muttered, so quietly that he could barely hear himself.

Dean's quiet chuckle followed him back to reluctant sleep.

XXX

The next time Sam opened his eyes, Dean was still next to him, flipping channels now, and they were still the only people in the room.

"Ryuji's not back yet?" he asked, frowning.

Dean, unsurprised at his sudden wakefulness, answered without glancing at him. "Nope. Guess he's taking a late lunch."

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"What did you do?"

"Nothin'!" Dean said defensively. Sam just stared at him, somehow managing not to blink, and finally Dean relented. "Okay, so I might have done _something_. He's coming back," he added hastily as Sam glared. "I just…may have asked him to…occupy himself for a few hours, is all."

"Why?" Sam asked tiredly, not even bothering to try and sound irritated.

Dean sighed and turned off the TV, dropping the remote to the bed next to him and finally turning to face Sam. "Because I wanted to talk to you one-on-one first."

"And you thought that'd take _hours?"_

"Well, one, you seem to be spending a lot of time sleeping off-and-on. And two…well, yeah, actually, I did. Think it would take all day. Actually, I'm pretty sure you'd be in for a lifetime of therapy if, you know, our whole family wasn't so screwed up."

Sam propped his head up a little on his hand and said, "So let's talk. Limited time offer, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, limited. But that doesn't mean you can't take as long as you need." The last part was said so quietly, with such embarrassment, that Sam decided to do Dean a courtesy and both forget the fact that his sentence hadn't even made any sense and to ignore that sentence entirely. A minute later, Dean resumed normal volume and tone. "Hey, Ryuji brought us something."

"Huh? He did? What?"

Instead of replying, Dean flipped over and opened the nightstand drawer. Sam watched with dull curiosity as he rummaged through it and pulled out a book that he recognized instantly.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah. That's why he came here in the first place—to give it to us. He just happened to arrive when—" Dean paused, and then cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, we have it now," he said lamely.

"So…Ryuji actually _saw_ Dad?" Sam asked, confused.

Dean shook his head. "No. That's what I thought, too, but the real story is actually a lot more interesting. And out-of-character."

"So spill."

"Well, seems Ryuji's been keeping tabs on us. He never told me what he's been _doing_ all these years, but somehow he's kept track of us. He followed Dad to that same motel we followed him to, but he was already gone. He busted the journal out of the evidence lockup at that jail I was at, and brought it to us when he couldn't pick up Dad's trail again."

"Ryuji broke into an evidence lockup? Well, that's different."

"Yeah," Dean said. "Yeah, it is. He's changed a lot, hadn't he? We all have, but…especially him. I dunno, I guess I just expected him to stay the same fifteen-year-old forever, but…he's changed. I mean, he still looks the same, a little taller maybe, but something else is different. I just…"

"Can't put your finger on how? Yeah, me either."

"So I guess the question is…do you even want to figure it out?"

Sam's eyebrow scrunched together in puzzlement. "I must be more tired than I thought, 'cause you're making less sense than usual."

Dean glanced down at him. "Oh, come on, don't tell me you haven't thought about it. The guy _bailed_ on us, Sam. You can't tell me you're not at least a _little_ mad at him. Are you sure you even wanna talk to him? Especially right now?"

Sam shrugged a little. "Well, yeah, I mean…how can I not? He came all the way here and everything."

"Not what I asked you."

Sam sighed. "Well, what do you want me to say, man? Yeah, I have issues with him. And yeah, I'm not sure how well I'll deal with him—if I'll yell at him or ask him where he's been or just…kill him and be done with it. But he was my best friend for such a long time. I can't just ignore him, and I don't want to."

Dean was silent for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and said, "Wow. That is just…majorly healthy. What happened to my good, psychologically damaged little brother? He was always so entertaining."

"Shut up."

Sam chuckled as he said it, but like every sound that had come out of him since the fire, it rang hollow, and Dean sighed inwardly and wondered when it was all going to _stop._

XXX

When Ryuji finally did return, he came armed with the burgers and fries that Dean had decided Sam _was_ going to eat, whether he liked it or not. But in truth, Sam really didn't feel up to fighting him, and so he forced the food down as quickly as possible under the watchful gazes of his brother and Ryuji.

And then there was just no prolonging it anymore, and Sam looked straight at Ryuji for the first time and said, "So do you…want to take a walk with me?"

Ryuji smiled at him, and before Dean could even mutter a token protest he said, "I'd like that."

XXX

Sam had never planned for them to walk far—he was way too tired, and Dean would freak—and they only made it to the Impale before Sam stopped, leaning against the hood, his hands in his pockets, just feeling the sun on his face and the breeze on his skin.

"So how is it?"

Sam started a little—though he'd been waiting for it, it still came as a surprise when Ryuji spoke. And the question was a little confusing, too.

"How's…what?" he asked blankly. _Losing the love of my life? My friends? My future? _What?

"Being on the road again, with Dean."

Sam shrugged. "Oh, you know…it's weird. Having someone _there_ all the time. Dean…he takes care of me. He's doing everything he can to help me deal, and it really does make it…well, not _better_, but a little more bearable, having him around. But…" Sam paused, trying to phrase his next words so that he didn't sound like a complete jerk. "It's just that…in a way, it also makes it harder."

Ryuji didn't say a word, and made it clear that he wasn't going to. He was going to make Sam say this, get it out here and now.

"I dunno, I mean…I feel like he's _expecting_ something from me, you know? Like he expects me to react a certain way to everything, like he's just waiting for me to break so he can do his fixing thing and…leave."

There it was—the fear. He'd felt it from the beginning of this whole mess, but only now could he put a name to it, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

"And I _know_ it's ridiculous. _I_ did that—_I_ left. Dean's…Dean's different than me. Better. But even though I know that, I can't shake the feeling."

Ryuji finally spoke then, and he sounded thoughtful. "So what you're saying is, you're weirded out by Dean being here…because you're afraid he'll leave."

Sam blushed, but it was good to know that he could at least feel that much. "Well, when you put it that way…" He smiled faintly, though his heart wasn't in it. "God, I'm stupid. I was so busy trying not to get used to having him around and not _trusting_ him that I…" He trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat before turning back to Ryuji. "He's not leaving, is he?"

Ryuji smiled gently and shook his head. "No. But…he may think you are. You did it once before, and even though you did nothing wrong then, it still hurt your brother. He might find the idea that you're sticking with him for a while difficult to believe, no matter how much he wants it. You may want to get that straightened out."

Sam didn't dispute it—he didn't have the energy to argue. For a moment he just looked down and scuffed his feet against the ground, and then he changed the subject.

"So what've you been doing all this time, Ryuji?"

"Mostly, I've been wandering. For about five years after I left your family, I went all over the world and hunted down the likes of those _you_ fight. And I thought the entire time—about myself, about my father, and about this war we're all fighting that none of us can see."

"And then?"

"And then…I went back. To my father and my people—to learn to take over his position one day, and, if we're still fighting this war, lead the Elves to battle." Ryuji chuckled. "Let me tell you, most of them are _decidedly_ unhappy with me."

"Why?" Sam asked, curious in spite of himself.

Ryuji still looked amused. "Well, you have to understand that most Elves don't like change. We like to sit around and play music and tell stories and fight wars when the time comes, but what we don't like is diversity. We've been almost a group of the exact same people, just with different hair, for millennia. We speak properly, dress properly, and spend our whole lives practicing conformity and not putting a toe out of line."

Sam was beginning to see where this was going. "And then you came along."

"Yeah. And then I came along. Ten years among you humans has changed me entirely. I talk like a human. I walk like a human, if an unusually silent one. Half the time, I _think_ like a human. I am utterly hopeless on a harp or a flute and poetry goes straight over my head. I'm a killer shot with a bow, but that's pretty much al I have in common with any of my people. They're absolutely scandalized by me, and rarely try to hide it."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

Ryuji laughed. "Are you kidding? I'm having the time of my life."

"You're very weird."

"If I am, I have only you Winchesters to blame." But then Ryuji's smile faded. "But here's the problem. I realize now that I know nothing about them. Oh, I know the theories, but personally? I've forgotten them almost entirely. Part of me prefers it that way, but…someday, I'll be their king. I'll be in charge and I won't have much choice in the matter. My father is going steadily downhill, though he's fighting hard for his life during this war, and it may not be long before I have to take over entirely. But how can I lead people I don't know?"

Sam really didn't know how to answer that, so he didn't say anything, and a moment later Ryuji sighed a little and shook his head.

"Well, anyway, it's not a big deal. Nothing for you to worry about. Let's just…go see about that brother of yours, shall we?"

* * *

_Author's Note: I know, I know, long wait. There's not much of a reason for it except this stupid broken foot of mine. I also know that the ending of the chapter was lame—I couldn't come up with anything better and was too tired to try. And one last thing—Sam and Dean are unforgivably OOC. I know that. But bear in mind that there's been a tragedy! That changes people! At least, temporarily._

_So, in short, there's a lot that's off about this chapter, but I'm posting it anyway, because I like it and I want to. So…review? Please?_


	13. Promises

Chapter 12

There were no visible signs of physical violence when Sam and Ryuji came back into the motel room, so Dean guessed that their "talk" hadn't gone _too_ badly. But Sam went directly to his bed and collapsed into it, barely managing a sitting position at the last minute, so apparently he wasn't feeling a whole lot better.

Ryuji sat down next to him, but he kept about six inches of space between them. Dean chalked another point under the _awkward_ category, and then sat back in his own bed and said, "So…what now?"

Ryuji gave him A Look—weird, it looked exactly like John's—and Sam slumped a little with a quiet, "Dean…"

"Look, I don't like it any more than you do," Dean said gently. "God knows I wish we could just hide in here indefinitely, but…you were right when you said we had work to do, and if you want to find the SOB who killed Jessica, we need to start soon."

Sam didn't answer, but rather paid an extraordinary amount of attention to his knees.

"Sammy…"

"I know, Dean," Sam said, his voice suddenly hard. "I know."

Ryuji's hand twitched, and then came up with lightning speed to give Sam's shoulder a pat before falling back to the bed. Sam glanced at him, and then gave a quick nod and a small sniff, and straightened just the slightest bit.

"So what do we do?"

"Right now, we work on getting you focused," Dean said simply. When Sam started to protest, he held up a hand and said, "Don't bother, man. I know you better than anyone, and I know you're not ready to start digging. I'm not asking for a hundred percent, but I'm not gonna let you go out there as a zombie."

Sam didn't answer, but he didn't look angry, at least.

"This is gonna be rough, Sam. It's gonna be rough for a long time, but the next few days are gonna be the worst. You know that. So just…let us take care of some of it, okay? Let me and Ryuji take care of it…at least for a little while."

Ryuji started a little when his name was mentioned, but he didn't argue the assumption that he'd be sticking around.

After a moment, Sam sighed a little, and nodded. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay. But…just one thing."

"Okay," Dean said tentatively. "Shoot."

"Well, I don't think I could handle going to check out the apartment…"

"No problem," Dean said quickly. "I'll do that."

"I figured. But that's not what I'm asking. I'm asking you not to go talk to Jess's family without me. I need to be there for that. I'm not expecting you to let me go alone, but you can't either. Promise?"

Dean didn't hesitate. It wouldn't have done any good, anyway. "I promise."

XXX

There wasn't a lot left of Sam's apartment, but that didn't mean it was easy to get into. There was a lot of hiding involved, ducking behind walls and into nooks to avoid investigating cops. But Dean had been trained by John Winchester, so this? It was child's play. Within minutes he was entering the remains of Sam's home for the past year or two, and wishing he wasn't.

It was nothing but wreckage now. There were no inside walls, no way of telling one room from the other, but all the same, Dean's eyes were immediately drawn to the bed. It was buried under rubble, but Dean could see it all too clearly—the place where he could've lost his brother, and the place where his brother _had_ lost his girlfriend.

He didn't spend a lot of time there. He felt like he was jumping out of his skin after only a couple of minutes, and stayed only long enough to run EMF, wonder why no one had put salt down, look for leads that he'd pretty much known going in would be nonexistent—basically, all the hunterly things he could think of and no more.

He found nothing, but then, that was pretty much what he'd expected, and he went to talk to the cops feeling no disappointment, but a bit more depressed than he'd been going in.

XXX

Ryuji didn't leave the motel room that day, even though all Sam really did was sleep and watch some TV. They didn't talk much—it felt like they'd said all they needed to say for the moment. But even though the room was small, dim, and silent, Ryuji didn't feel bored or confined. He felt…relieved. He felt like he was finally back where he belonged, back to a life he enjoyed.

But at the same time, it hurt a little. It hurt to know that Sam had forgiven him so readily, that he was still the same kind person he'd been as a child. It hurt that he still loved Sam as much as he always had and was still as certain that it didn't matter. Sam was still Sam, he was still Ryuji, and that was all that mattered.

Besides, it wasn't like he could stay. Not forever. Oh, he would stick around for a bit, most certainly. He wouldn't leave while Sam needed him. But in the end, he'd go back. He'd return to the Elves and disappear from the Winchesters' lives again.

And the most painful part of it was that it would hurt him far more than it would hurt them.

XXX

Jessica's family had a nice house. It was big, white, normal, with flowers on the lawn. Sam marched up the walk as if he'd been there a thousand times—which, actually, he probably had. Dean followed a little behind him—they were alone, having left Ryuji at the motel to try doing some research.

Sam knocked twice on the door, and then stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited, Dean at his back and feeling awkward.

The kid who opened the door was maybe fifteen or sixteen. He was tall, thin, blond, and his face was absolutely blank when he saw Sam. He didn't say anything.

"Hey, Jeremy," Sam said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

The kid—Jeremy, apparently Jessica's little brother—didn't say anything, his face devoid of all expression.

"Um…how're you doing?" 

Jeremy looked at him for a long moment, then turned and walked away, leaving the door open.

"That was Jeremy," Sam said, his voice shaking a little. "Jess called him Squirt a lot," he added, as if that explained anything. "He's a pretty cool kid."

"Yeah, I could see that when he was icing you," Dean replied. "So…should we go in?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess we could. I never even used to knock, but…"

"It's different now," Dean agreed. After a second of thought, he stuck his head in through the door and was about to call out when Sam shrugged past him and stepped into the house.

There was no sign of Jeremy or anyone else, but Sam didn't hesitate and headed down the hallway. Dean followed and found himself in a kitchen, with his brother and two middle-aged strangers.

Jessica's mother looked almost exactly like her. Dean had only met the girl for a couple of minutes, but that fact struck him immediately. Same eyes, same hair, same quiet sort of beauty. Her father, on the other hand, was short, round, and balding, and didn't look a thing like either of his children.

But they didn't look unhappy to see Sam. They didn't look angry that he was alive and not their daughter, and that pretty much made them both beautiful in Dean's eyes.

Not that, you know, he ever would have _said_ as much to anyone living or dead.

He was thinking this when Mrs. Moore got to her feet, walked over, and grabbed Sam in a tight hug. Sam stood stone-still for a minute and then hugged her back, holding her as if trying to give comfort, as if he were completely comfortable with this. Dean only wished _he_ were as comfortable.

Finally, though, Mrs. Moore let go, and Sam stepped back and said, "I'm so sorry, Angie."

Mrs. Moore—Angie to Sam, apparently—wiped her eyes and gave Sam a watery smile. "Me, too, Sam. Me, too. But…we're glad to came. We'd like to…talk to you."

Dean cleared his throat then, quietly, but it was enough to get Sam's attention.

"Oh. Right. Guys, this is my big brother Dean. Dean, this is Angie and Rick Moore."

Dean reached out to shake hands with both of them, feeling more awkward than he ever had in his life, more awkward than he'd ever felt in a long history of speaking with the bereaved. And it didn't feel like the awkwardness was going to end anytime soon.

XXX

Sam leaned against the door for a long time after Mrs. Moore closed it behind him, silent. Dean stood in front of him, watching closely for any sign of a breakdown. But Sam's eyes stayed dry and his face stayed calm, no matter what the emotions he had to have rolling through him.

"Sam, you don't have to do this," Dean said. "You don't have to speak at the funeral. No one will hold it against you."

Sam looked up at him. "I will."

Dean studied him, and even though he didn't like what he saw, he did recognize it. He sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

"You don't have to come."

Dean shook his head. "Sam, if you believe that, then I really do need to have your head examined."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah. So am I."

XXX

Jessica's funeral was like any other—long, sad, and crappy. Sam's eulogy was poignant, well-spoken, and pretty much moved the room to tears, which would have been used as definite ammo for future mocking if not for one thing: it had choked Dean up a little as well.

Un-freaking-believable.

It actually felt kind of weird, being there. Besides Sam, Ryuji, and the Moore family, he knew absolutely no one here. These were all Jessica's friends, and Sam's.

He felt like an intruder, an onlooker into his own brother's life, and it hit him again that he'd been out of that life for a while now.

But as bad as the funeral had been, the wake was worse. Hours of sitting in a corner, watching Sam move around the room and try to keep it together while talking with friends who were hurting just as much as he was, was really nothing short of torture. 

By the end of the day, they were all pretty wrung out, and Dean, for one, was almost wishing he'd never come to Stanford in the first place.

XXX

Sam, Dean and Ryuji dug around Palo Alto for a week and found…nothing. Granted, it wasn't much more than expected, but the defeat still stung.

On the Sunday after Jessica's death, Sam said they should leave. It was surprising that it was his idea, but then, Sam hadn't exactly been following the expected course for grieving through this whole thing. And besides, Dean certainly wasn't going to argue with getting out of Palo Alto, so it was decided that they would leave the next morning.

It was also decided that Ryuji wouldn't be going with them.

"I just can't," the Elf explained, as if every word hurt. "You have no idea how much I wish I could, but I have to go back to my father. I still have a lot to learn, and he still needs me."

Sam didn't argue. He hadn't argued with anyone, about anything, in seven days. It was as if all the fight had gone out of him. All he said was, "Will we see you again?"

Ryuji smiled gently. "What kind of a question is that? Of course you'll see me again. Such a maudlin view of things, Sam! I'm only going back home."

"Yeah, where you'll be prepping for an invisible war. It's not exactly the safest place for you to be."

"And you and Dean are so well-known for hiding from danger," Ryuji shot back. 

Sam blushed and looked down sheepishly. "True. I just…I don't like the idea of you going away for ten years again."

"It wasn't ten years, and what if I promise it won't be that long this time? What if I promise to come see you guys as often as I possibly can?"

Sam looked up. "Really?" He would have been ashamed of how young he sounded, but…well, not today.

Ryuji smiled. "Really."

Sam sighed. "Well, let's go tell Dean, then. He's probably gonna give you quite a bit of grief over this."

XXX

"So you realize that not telling your friends you're leaving is the most dysfunctional thing you've ever done, and that's in a long line of dysfunctional things."

"Yeah," Sam said. "And you realize why that's my choice."

"Yeah." Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes, and turned to Ryuji. "And you realize that ditching us again is the suckiest thing you've ever done."

"Yeah," Ryuji replied. "And you realize why I have to."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "Well, as long as we all realize we're idiots, I guess."

"That's the important thing," Ryuji agreed cheerfully. But then his smile faded and he said, "You know I'm coming back, right? This isn't permanent. I might even come see you for Christmas."

"Oh, don't bother, we don't need an extra person to cook for anyway," Dean said. Then he smiled and held out a hand to the Elf, who took it and surprised him by pulling him in for a hug. Dean grunted in surprise, then just kind of patted Ryuji on the back a couple of times before pulling away, looking disturbed.

Ryuji grinned at him. "Forgot you were such a touchophobe."

"Yeah, well…don't do it again," Dean said awkwardly. Then he fastened a hand to Sam's shoulder, shoved him forward, and said, "I'll be in the car."

And then Sam and Ryuji were standing alone in front of the motel.

"So…" Sam said, hands in his pockets. "Here we are again."

"Yes. Here we are," Ryuji agreed.

"You heading home today?"

"Yeah. Listen, Sam, can we cut the small talk, please? Just…tell me how mad you are that I'm doing this."

"I'm not," Sam replied instantly, sincerely.

"You're not."

"No. I'm not mad. I'll miss you, but I'm not mad."

"Seriously?"

"Look, Ryuji. If there's one thing I understand, it's making sacrifices for your family. I tried to escape that, and look where it got me. No, no, it's true," Sam added as Ryuji opened his mouth to protest. "And that's not what I'm getting at anyway. The point is, I understand. Just…don't go for too long, okay?"

"Why do you guys keep assuming I'm gonna ditch you?" Ryuji asked with a groan.

"Uh…because you did once?"

"Oh. That. Right," Ryuji said, looking embarrassed. "Well, I'm not going to again, okay?"

Sam didn't make him promise. He just said, "Okay."

"Okay," Ryuji repeated. "Now get over here and give me a hug before your brother decides to leave without you."

For some reason, hugging Ryuji wasn't as embarrassing as it should have been, and Sam held on for a long time before letting go and turning to leave.

"Oh, and Sam?"

Sam turned back to his friend. "Yeah?"

"It's okay, you know."

"What?"

"It's okay that you haven't been able to cry. I know you've been worried about that."

"Wha—how did you—"

"Don't be worried," Ryuji interrupted. "I know you feel wrong now, but it won't last forever."

Sam stared at him, still questioning, but Ryuji wasn't going to answer.

"I promise."

* * *

_Author's Note: Spring break is so _boring!_ I'm almost completely confined to my room except when I eat. That's bad for me, but turns out it's good for the people who like this story, because if it wasn't for my boredom I probably never would've gotten this written._

_One other thing. Apologies to those I told that this would be the last chapter. Turned out there was more there than I thought. But the next one will certainly be the last—an epilogue and that is it. Promise! And I'm not saying that just 'cause Ryuji did first._


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

Sam woke up at five-thirty the morning after they'd finished the Wendigo hunt with the abrupt realization that he hadn't checked his e-mail since he'd gone with Dean from Stanford to find their dad.

It shouldn't have been that important. For over a week now, things had been distant, shuttered, and he hadn't really cared about much of anything except his anger. And even now, it didn't bother him all that much that his friends had probably been trying to get hold of him for a couple of days and worrying about where he was.

But he was still Sam Winchester, however altered, and Sam Winchester didn't let his friends worry about him if he could do something about it.

Dean was still sprawled out in the other bed, sound asleep, and he didn't react when Sam crawled out of bed and pulled out his laptop. The motel had wireless access, which was one of the very few requirements the Winchesters wouldn't bend on when looking for rooms, and in a couple of minutes Sam was scrolling through a list of 173 e-mails.

Mostly, it was just junk. Spam, online offers, upgrades—Sam deleted 152 without opening them, and then started reading them in earnest.

Of the twenty-one e-mails left, the first fourteen had been sent in the last two days alone—since he'd left Stanford. They were pretty typical—where was he, was he okay, when was he coming back. He sent what information he could and then, just for the heck of it, started opening the remaining seven. Obviously there was no use replying to them now, but he wanted to see what they'd said, anyway.

The snippets of normalcy contained in those e-mails were enough to bring a lump to his throat. There were questions about a poli-sci class that was, coincidentally, coming up tomorrow. There were people wondering if he could help them with a bit of last-minute cramming and an e-mail from Rebecca that told him on no uncertain terms that the Halloween party was coming up and _he would be there._ And last on the list, there was even one request for an Art History tutor that most definitely would have been hidden from…

Sam felt his whole body freeze for a second. Then he was logging off and slapping his computer closed and throwing himself back as if the table were covered in poisonous spiders and leaping to his feet. Dean didn't even stir, so apparently he'd done this all quietly. He couldn't have sworn to that, though, since he really had no idea what he was doing at the moment.

He still wasn't remotely with it as he strode across the room and pulled open the door, stepping out into the gray pre-dawn light outside. He closed the door behind him and kept moving, unsure where he was going but sure that he couldn't be _here._

He moved straight past the car and kept walking. He lost track of time and distance as he walked, but by the time he stopped the sun was rising, the birds were wide awake, and he was standing on the side of the road alone.

It was as good a place as any, and Sam collapsed on the dew-soaked ground, covered his face with his hands, and shook with his sobs.

It was an odd thing to have broken him, that one e-mail that wasn't even from Jess, who didn't believe in e-mail because she felt they were too cold and impersonal. That shouldn't have been the one thing to pull the tears out of him—Jess deserved more than that.

And yet…as Sam sat there on the grass and rocked back and forth with spine-snapping sobs, he couldn't make himself believe anymore that he'd done yet another thing wrong. He'd gotten Jess killed, but never for a moment had he intentionally disrespected her. Her, or her memory.

Sam cried until the tears just wouldn't come anymore, until there was nothing left in his body to _make_ any more. Then he just breathed, the ragged gasps threaded through with…relief. Relief, and cleanliness.

Ryuji had been right. He'd felt wrong. He still felt a little…off…but he didn't feel completely, totally _altered_ anymore. It hadn't lasted forever.

Sam slowly pushed himself up with shaking hands and looked around through red-rimmed, but dry, eyes. The sun was fully risen, the road still deserted, and he was probably at least a mile from the motel, with no idea of how long he'd been gone.

Dean would be awake by now. Awake and worried.

Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes and over his face and turned back the way he'd come.

* * *

_Author's Note: Well, that's all, folks! I gotta say, I kind of liked the ending. I hope you did, too._

_And now, I owe a certain someone a thank you. I want to thank my friend Mandy for asking me to write this story. I wasn't sure about it at first—Ryuji wasn't my character, and I wasn't sure I could really do much with him. But the truth is, it's been a long time since I've had this much fun. I always love to write, but with this story I felt like I was getting something back that I was missing for a while._

_So, yeah, Mandy. Thanks. Maybe we can bring Ryuji back to our little sandbox sometime, eh?_

_Until then, though—review, guys!_


End file.
